The Legend Of
by XoXLexLoveXoX
Summary: <html><head></head>One-shot Rickyl collection. Each chapter is inspired by a dif. song on the album The Legend Of by Johnny Cash. Ranging from friendship to smut. Rickyl.</html>
1. Hello, I'm Johnny Cash

Challenged by my friend Tess I will be doing an album ship collection. The idea is to pick an album done by one of my favorite artists/bands and write a one-shot collection inspired by each song.

These will be rickyl (RickxDaryl) ranging from friendshipping, brotherly love, to smutt, so be warned

I own nothing..

This is dedicated to **Johnny Cash: The Legend Of**

Songs/chapters:

Cry!Cry!Cry!

Hey, Porter

Folsom Prison Blues

I Walk The Line

Get Rhythm

Big River

Guess Things Happen That Way

Ring of Fire

Jackson

A Boy Named Sue

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Man In Black

One Piece At A Time

Highway Man

Rusty Cage

I've Been Everywhere

The Man Comes Around

Hurt

Each one will not follow the song exactly, in fact, most of them will probably just be whatever that one makes me feel or reminds me of. I will post with it the most meaningful lyrics to the story, as well as a brief description. These will most likely be rickyl fluff but I will post warnings if things get steamy, bloody or violent.

So, hope you enjoy, follow me for regular updates. And follow me on Tumblr xoxanimenurdxox for more TWD stuff.


	2. Cry Cry Cry!

Description: Farm setting. Rick has another fight with Lori. Distressed, Rick seeks out Daryl for comfort.

Warning: Rickyl pairing, Sexual content, don't like don't read.

I own nothing.

**Cry!Cry!Cry!**

_I wasted my time when I would try, try, try._

_When the lights have lost their glow, you're gonna cry, cry, cry._

"Hey, don't you walk away from me! Rick!" Lori's shrill voice could be heard from across the farm.

Rick shook his head as he exited their tent. He couldn't believe she wanted to start this again. Rick hadn't been terribly emotional when he found out about what Shane and Lori had been doing in his absence. Sure, the news was heart breaking and left a bitter ball of distrust in the pit of his stomach. He had felt back-stabbed, betrayed, cheated and used. However, there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as the survival of the group. The ex-officer had pushed all of his resentment and fury deep deep down where no one could see it.

That is, until someone had seen it. Someone who was used to harboring seeded anger for the world to not miss.

That's how this had started. This is what led Rick to promptly ignore Lori's badgering, stride across the front lawn of the Greene estate and head towards a certain redneck's secluded tent.

The first time Rick had 'found comfort' in the southern-hunter had been a few weeks ago. Lori had been acting moodier than usual, flaring at him and even going to the extent of demanding that he find somewhere else to sleep.

He complied, eagerly, knowing that anything would be better than arguing with his pretty much ex-wife. He strode angrily around the perimeter of the camp, trying to cool himself off in the late night air.

The hunter had been perched atop Dale's camper seated on a fold-up chair, watching the horizon for any sign of walkers. Daryl had growled at him for recklessly and noisily striding about the camp so late at night. Rick had joined him on his perch as they talked. Or more, Rick fumed and Daryl tried to ignore him.

Daryl seemed to wan nothing more than to be left alone, however too loyal to turn away a distressed Rick.

The hunter had later told him that he had a soft spot for the ex-sheriff. Ever since he hastened to help find Merle when he had been left behind in Atlanta and again when Carol's little girl Sophia went missing. They had both taken finding her as a walker personal blow. Somehow, they both felt as if they had let the group down and now shared the guilt of their unfulfilled optimism.

Once Andrea had come to relieve Daryl of watch duty around midnight that night, Rick had absentmindedly followed him back to his tent. Finally having had enough, Daryl tried to tell him to get lost. This led to a heated argument and before either knew what happened they were on the ground, lips locked and little more to say. They had ended it there that night, neither knowing exactly what to make of the strange event.

Rick had at first blamed it on the falling out with his wife, resentment toward his best friend and stress of trying to keep the group alive. However, he could not ignore the way he caught himself staring at the rednecks lips and form. He couldn't shake the consistent thoughts he had of him or the worry he felt whenever the hunter disappeared unannounced.

After 3 days of ignoring the subject and the two found themselves walking a forest path, searching for game. Neither were keen on the idea of facing what had happened but Rick simply couldn't take the distance anymore. They talked, they argued, they kissed roughly and suddenly there were a distinct lack of clothes dividing the pair.

A few weeks of this pattern and now here Rick was, fleeing Lori's blood curling nagging yet again, standing defeated in front of Daryls tent. He had found that showing up unannounced at the Dixon's temporary abode was not a very smart thing to do but he was desperate. Desperate to see the appealing face of the hunter gasping beneath him. Desperate to feel those rough hands explore his body. Desperate to feel wanted and unjudged. Just desperate to be with Daryl.

The leader had just bent over and begun unzipping the tent flap when a sharp nudge to his hip caused him to jump.

Daryl stood close behind him, signature crossbow secured around his back, one eyebrow raised.

"Shit- don't scare me like that." Rick sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

Daryl held up a hand defensively, "Not my fa'lt you're a jumpy fuck."

Rick cleared his throat, "I uh, I was wondering if we could talk. Alone."

He still felt awkward breaching the subject, but found it most effective to ask Daryl to accompany him somewhere private as to not corner the hunter. He wanted to make sure that they were both in a neutral setting, away from prying eyes.

"Aren't we alone rig't now?" Daryl asked, almost looking confused.

Rick felt his face heat up. Not only did he not yet feel comfortable with saying exactly what he meant, but that confused look on Daryl's face was oddly adorable. But Rick would never say that to Daryl either, not if he wanted to keep his teeth in his mouth.

Filling the silence, Rick cleared his dry throat again, "uh, alone, alone?"

A sudden wave of understanding crossed Daryl's features as he nodded and started walking toward the dark tree line, Rick following close behind.

Normally Daryl would advise against wandering into the forest cover so late at night but they were both confident in their abilities. It also appeared that the idea of what Rick was suggesting was also too appealing to pass up for Daryl, if the hastening in his steps were anything to go by.

Once when they had retired to an abandoned cabin after searching all day for Sophia, the redneck had made a bold move. Not in a sexual way but in a personal manner. He confided in Rick that he had been surprised by their growing bond, it even scared him a little. He wasn't quite sure if he could call themselves 'exclusive' but it sure felt like it.

Being with another man was not new to Daryl. The hunter had been introduced to the wonderful world of bisexuality in high school when a young man had made a drunken advance on him at a party. He had never seen the kid again and was left alone and confused but since then he couldn't help but appreciate both sexes for what they had to offer.

However, the youngest Dixon had never done more than sleep around with people a few scattered times or met a stranger that he wound up sharing a bed with on cold drunken nights.

Sleeping with the same person, talking and surviving the new blood thirsty world together was something new entirely for him.

The pair walked wordlessly just out of sight of the camp, silently stalking into the night.

Daryl removed his crossbow sheepishly onto a pool of moonlight, close and in sight.

It was a beautiful evening, near-full moon lighting up even the shadowy foliage. The air was crisp and clear, not a single sound making its presence known.

The redneck had just turned to face him when Rick roughly pushed him up against the brittle bark of a tree. Sun burnt lips met his with a new found sense of familiarity. The kiss was slick and hot, tongues instantly meeting in a battle for dominance. Both men immediately let their hands roam over the other figure, unsure of where to let them rest.

A need for air overpowered them both but it was Rick who pulled back first, hand tangled in the short locks of the others hair.

"Sorry, I just missed seeing you."

Daryl huffed at this, "what d'ya mean? Ya've seen me all day."

Rick let out an almost humorless chuckle as he rested his forehead against his hunter's, "Nah, I mean really seen ya'."

Daryl tried to avert his eyes but Rick kept him grounded. Sometimes Rick gifted him with affection that he didn't know how to handle. Had never been worthy of before. He clearly didn't know what else to say, so he let his actions speak. Forcing their lips back together and swiftly undoing the buttons on the others shirt, Rick followed suit, eager to feel the heat of skin on skin.

Daryl hastily removed Rick's gun belt, placing it respectfully next to his own discarded bow. Breaking their kiss, Rick began to unbutton the hunters pants when suddenly he was spun around and the air left his lungs, their positions reversed. Daryl kissed and licked his way down Ricks neck, pausing quickly to nip at his collar bone.

The ex-officer couldn't conceal the light moan that left him as Daryl skillfully worked his way down his chest. Pausing again to take one of his nipples into his mouth, Daryl's practiced hands found the front of Ricks pants and caressed the growing bulge through the fabric.

Through a hitched breath Rick tried to speak, "Shit- Daryl." The hunter swirled the nub with his tongue, teasing the appendage.

Feeling he had not yet tortured his leader enough, Daryl dropped to his knees, staring up at him through shaggy bangs that just breached his vision.

Rick knew that Daryl had a lot more experience in this department than he did. But what he did next, stole what little breath he had away and was definitely the kinkiest thing he had ever experienced.

Without breaking eye contact, Daryl grazed the tip of his tongue over the material of his jeans. He then unbuttoned Ricks pants swiftly, holding the two open ends apart and clenched the zipper between his teeth, dragging the metal piece down.

Rick was throbbing in need by the time his lover pulled out his leaking member, placing a testing lick at the tip as he worked the sheriff's pants down.

No longer able to take it, the leader let his head fall back and rest against the tree, urging the other on, "Fu-fuck Daryl, if ya' keep fucking with me like that I won't last long."

Rick more felt than saw the smirk Daryl was donning as he placed his lips to his exposed head. This lasted for only a moment before Daryl took the majority of his length into the heat of his mouth. Wrapping a hand around Rick's base and bringing his other hand to rest on his exposed thigh, Daryl began a steady pace of bobbing his head and swirling his tongue.

Rick threaded one hand through the others hair, encouraging him. He clenched his other into a fist and bit on it in an attempt to muffle the noises that were now freely falling from his mouth. Unable to help it, his hips began thrusting into the incredible heat that was Daryl's mouth.

Fuck, he knew how to use that tongue.

Too soon, the ex-cop felt a coiling in his stomach, the early signs of a blissful finish. But Rick wouldn't have it just yet. This may be good but he craved something else. He craved the sensation of filling Daryl until he too was writhing in need and pleasure.

Rick gave a sharp tug on the others hair, managing to spit out only part of a protest, "no."

Daryl took the hint, releasing Rick's cock with one final lick to the underside.

Rick was frantic as he simultaneously lowered himself and pushed Daryl flush against the ground, dried leaves crunching under their weight. He locked their lips again, tasting his own pre-cum coating the hunters tongue.

Daryl didn't fight as Rick sat up on his knees, straddling him. He yank the others shoes and socks off, throwing them carelessly to the side. Next he made quick work of his pants, removing them completely and tossing them to the wind, much like all of his other clothes.

At this point nothing was said, just the frantic panting of both men and strings of unintelligible curses.

Towering over him Daryl pushed himself up, grasping Rick around his neck and bringing their mouths together again. The blatant need in Daryl's actions made him crave what was coming next just that much more.

The sheriff wrapped a hand around his partners quivering member and stroked, chests bumping together in the moment. He managed to work his free hand between them however, and push Daryl back down, breaking their kiss. Keeping a firm stroke on the others cock, Rick lathered three of his fingers in saliva, demanding that Daryl spread his legs to give them more room.

The hunter did so just in time as Rick forced his hand between his legs and to his tight hole. Wasting no time, Rick worked one finger in and began pumping in time with his strokes. Daryl let his head fall back and gasped at the sensation. "This pay back?" Daryl managed to ask between heavy breaths, voice deep and laced with lust. Rick inserted a second finger, stretching the other and taking more time doing so than usual. "You bet." He managed to reply, too busy taking in the hot mess that was Daryl. Finally inserting the third digit, Rick decided that he was through playing games. He pumped his fingers in at a quick speed, earning a slur of curses from the man below him. Satisfied, Rick withdrew his hand and eagerly leaned over Daryl's sweating form, pushing his pants down around his own boots. He continued to pump the others now leaking member as he lined himself up.

They met eyes for a moment in confirmation as Rick cautiously broke through the first ring of muscles, and continued pushing inward until his entire length was sheathed within his partner.

Daryl tensed for a long moment, trying to adjust to the size that now filled him as Rick waited. Daryl stroked Ricks back and nodded at him to move, to which he greedily complied.

The leader began a merciless rhythm, taking Daryls vocal moaning as encouragement. He stopped only briefly to switch angles and hoist one of Daryls legs over his shoulder. He had learned throughout their growing encounters that the hunter was quite flexible.

To his surprise Daryl was the first to fall over the edge, covering his mouth to stifle the near yell that escaped him. The nails on his other hand dug painfully into his shoulder blade as the hunters entrance tightened painfully around him. A few quickened thrusts later and Rick was riding out his own vision blurring orgasm inside of Daryl. He milked himself as much as possible before collapsing into a heap on top of the man below him, letting the others leg fall from exhaustion to the side.

The two lay on the ground, intertwined as they both half heartedly laughed at the mind blowing experience. They had had good sex before but that was something for the records.

Scraping up what little energy he could, Rick picked his body up enough to pull out of Daryl, a string of cum flowing freely from him now.

Lazily the sheriff stole one final slow kiss from his favorite hunter. Rick rested his head in the crook of Daryl's neck, breathing in the musky scent that was distinctly him. Said hunter meanwhile threaded his fingers through his leaders damp locks, his other hand massaging his back, sleep threatening to claim him already.

"We sho'd prob'bly clean up n' head back." Daryl stated not at all sounding like he wanted to do so.

Rick nuzzled his nose deeper into the rednecks nape, letting out a whine of protest. Going back meant leaving Daryl and having to face Lori again, which did not at all sound pleasing.

This right here, laying naked, intertwined, after the most mind-blowing sex he had ever had with the one he loved-

Rick blinked. The one he loved? Uh oh.

A mixture of wholeness and fear tangled itself in his chest as he realized that he may in fact love Daryl Dixon.

_Authors note: Woo, hadn't intended for this to get so steamy so fast. Oh well. There are many more to come, the first chapter posted has a list of names for each chapter to come. So please review. Your comments keep me writing. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Hey, Porter

_Alright, I had a hard time thinking up a prompt for this one. Hope you all enjoy._

**Description**: Prison setting. Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Tyreese make a run farther than they have ever gone. The long drive giving them all a lot of time to rest and think.

**warnings: fluff, mention of bodily injury and violence.**

I own nothing.

**Hey, Porter**

_Hey porter! Hey porter!_

_Would you tell me the time?_

_How much longer will it be till we cross_

_that Mason Dixon Line?_

The trip was unconventional but necessary.

Food stock was sufficient for the first time in a long time, however there was still work to be done. Modifications to the prison that would secure its safety for the group. Fall was swiftly shifting into winter, freezing rain and cold temperatures bringing the spirit inside the concrete walls down. The wire gates of the prison had been growing weary, bending inward as more walkers forced their undead weight against them. Wooden support beams had been lined up along the fences in an attempt to stall the warping of the metal but it wasn't enough.

Weeks ago, when Daryl and Glenn had made a run to a distant town, desperately searching for more baby formula, they had temporarily taken shelter in the town hall. A horde of Walkers had flooded the streets, too many for the pair to take on alone. The hall had already been boarded up, early survivors now dead and the building vacated. Dispatching only a few of the undead corpses inside had been easy but the wait for the flauk outside to pass had been agonizing. The two breathed lightly, trying desperately to not make any noise and inform the flesh eaters of their whereabouts. This procedure had lasted all night and into the early morning.

In the passing time, Glenn had paced about, silently trying to busy his racing mind and occupy his jittery hands. Looking through the main desk in the center of the marble building, the kid had found a town map and begun circling useful places within the town limits for future references.

Weeks later, Daryl had been grateful for his companions resourcefulness when he pulled out the map again and found a concrete plant located there. He brought it up at the next council meeting, ensuring the group that there was bound to be more durable pillar material there. The group had decided that organizing a team to make the 55 mile drive would be worth the fuel if they could put a halt to the worry of their fences caving in.

A few days later found Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Tyreese divided into two pick-up trucks, headed West to the promise of security. Daryl and Rick drove in front, the redneck behind the wheel, leading Glenn and Ty down the deserted highway. The trip there was filled with silence as the lead car was comforted by light music from the CD player. As the four drove into town, however, all sets of eyes were trained on their surroundings. Not wanting to be caught off guard, Daryl handed the map over to Rick asking where to go from there and the sheriff directed them to the other side of town.

The once crowded streets were now mostly barren, the hoard that Daryl and Glenn had previously encountered blissfully absent. Stray walkers still wandered the roads, however the small caravan skillfully navigated around them with little effort.

Daryl pulled the truck up to a dingy looking settlement, front gate broken off its hinges and propped up halfway in their path. Leaving the engine running, Rick and Daryl climbed out of the cab and with their combined strength they moved the gate aside.

Once both trucks were parked beside the loading dock, all four survivors exited their vehicles and took in the surroundings. In the heat of the apocalypse there was no need for a concrete plant, most stock still in place. They split up, Rick and Glenn searched the field displays while Daryl and Tyreese checked the interior.

All he had to do was break the rusting padlock with the heel of his boot and the metal door slid open. The cringing metal made a loud grinding noise in protest, prompting Daryl to be on guard. The moment his hand left the cold metal his crossbow was raised and ready for danger. The hunter and Tyreese made eye contact in a silent agreement to press forward. Tyreese had raised his hammer over his head, the weapon quickly becoming his new favorite item to take out walkers quietly in close combat. The building had high ceilings that let in ample amount of light from the tall, mostly broken windows that ran along each wall. From the far end of the room a male walker came stumbling out of what Daryl guessed was an office, grotesque flesh hanging off in chunks. He quickly dispatched of it with an arrow to the skull, followed by a 'thunk' as the rotten corpse hit the floor. Keeping his keen eyes fastened and his ears trained on any foreign noise, the hunter reclaimed his arrow. He took a moment to reload as Tyreese wandered about looking for anything useful. The wide warehouse was filled with mostly large slabs of concrete, which would be useful. However, unless they had a crane to move them with, there was no way they'd be able to get them on the trucks.

The two decided that there was nothing to be salvaged inside and promptly back tracked their way outside again. They were out just in time to meet Rick and Glenn as they too made their way back to the trucks. Daryl would be worried by their empty hands if it weren't for the hopeful smiles etched into their faces.

"There's plenty of slabs out in the sale yard tha' would fit on the truck beds." Rick informed them, "Jus' figured you two could help us move em'. " Rick had clearly read the weary look in his eyes, hastening to explain before Daryl jumped the gun.

He nodded in relief, "Good. There ain't nothin' we could move inside."

Rick and Glenn led the way back to their find, Daryl unable to conceal his joy at the fact that this trip hadn't been a waste after all. The four took their time, After having Glenn and Tyreese pull the trucks over, to load each slab of solid concrete.

The process had been filled with triumphant chatter as the group speculated on their plans to re-enforce the front gates. As Rick, Tyreese and Glenn adjusted the position of the top slab on the second truck load, Daryl had wandered back to the rows to pull out the next one.

The cob-web covered sheet had just come loose of its setting next to a pile of steel rods when suddenly one of Daryl's feet was pulled out from underneath him. Instinctually his hands left the slab and reached for his knife, holstered at his waist. The concrete fell back, letting out an echoing crash and slid at the bottom. Daryl had pivoted to the side, to avoid being crushed, however the walker that had grabbed him wasn't so lucky. The entirety of its body, apart from its head and grasping arm was flattened beneath the weight, the decomposing corpse crushed like a bug under a boot. Daryl felt a rush of pain in his thigh as he fell face first onto the ground, the weight of his crossbow jumping on his back. He barely caught himself with his hands before he forced his way through the burning sensation and rotated himself to a sitting position to face the chattering teeth of the decapitated walker head. Quickly he plunges his blade into the remaining skull for good measures and retrieved before he even heard the sound of hurried footsteps.

The other three in his group had rushed over as soon as they heard the signs of a disturbance. Tyreese and Rick had circled the slab, hauling Daryl back from the wreckage and inspecting him for bites. Glenn meanwhile, had jumped atop the fallen slab and surveyed the area for any more surprise visitors.

There were no bites, however once looking down his own figure Daryl realized that his entire side was now damp with crimson blood. Tyreese pulled the dismembered hand still clinging to his boot off and threw it aside.

Rick made quick work as he grabbed the hunting knife, still clenched in his fist, from him and used it to tear a hole in the side of Daryl's pant leg over the wound. When the slab had fallen, the force had pulled some of the steel rods off of its pile, driving one of them into his thigh. Pain shot up his body as the sheriff feverishly pulled off his jacket and used it to put pressure on the bloody hole in his leg. Daryl, eyes watering slightly from the movement, pulled off his belt and worked around Ricks hands to tie it around his upper thigh to stop the blood flow.

"We've got walkers comin' in!" Glenn warned them from atop his perch, gun raised.

The group checked the area and confirmed that the commotion had drawn in a couple dozen of the undead. The beasts were closing in and just reaching the front gate where they had entered through.

"Hold onto this." Rick instructed, signalling his now bloody jacket. Once Daryl took a hold of the material and pressed it firmly to the wound, the leader worked his way under his free arm and helped hoist him to his feet. Rick fumbled through his pocket, retrieving his keys and tossing them to Ty, "Go. Get the cars started, I've got Daryl."

The man signaled to Glenn to follow and the two ran to the trucks, firing up each engine.

Rick and Daryl stumbled to the cars, Daryl's leg flaring in protest, "I'll drive. Help me get him in."

Tyreese ran around the truck and threw the door open, helping Rick handle Daryl into the passenger seat.

Once secured, the other two split up, Rick climbing into the drivers seat and Tyreese into the passengers with Glenn. Their tires squealed as both drivers turned their cars around. Rick slammed his front end into a walker and side swiped several others as he made his way out the front gate and back onto the road. Daryl chanced a look out the back window to see the numerous figures attempting to follow them as they put distance between them and the concrete plant.

He let out a pained sigh, "Well tha' was fun."

He tried to put on a humored smirk as Rick met his eye, "you could have died. Hell, you still could."

Rick looked pained, his features carefully constructed into a mask of half-heartedness. Daryl hated that look, it was almost as bad as Rick fussing over how stupid he had been to let his guard down. Hell, he did feel stupid for letting his guard down.

"Ya' could'a left me." His voice was barely a whisper. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Rick looked over at him, his eyes diverting from the road longer than Daryl would have liked. The ex-officer's eyes were wide in a strange mix of anger and hurt, "Are you kiddin' me right now?"

He seemed astounded that his partner would even say something like that.

Daryl hung his head, thankful that his growing bangs shielded his eyes away from that look. He readjusted the cloth still pressed to his bleeding leg, hoping desperately that Rick would drop the subject. He knew it was the truth. The smart thing for Rick, for anybody, to do would have been to leave him behind. But he also knew that Rick would never do that. Couldn't.

Daryl stole a glance at his leader.

His eyes were now fixed back on the road, lips pressed together in a fine line, his mind clearly raging at all of the things he wanted to say but didn't. In that moment Daryl noticed how old and worn down his partner looked. His dark hair was oily and dusted with gray, dark circles beneath his vibrant blue eyes. The stubble on his jaw was graying as well, stray strands set out in every direction. His skin was pale and dirty, streaked only by the cold sweat that must have broken over him in their speedy getaway.

He wanted to say something. Wanted to take back what he had said, if only to calm the turmoil swirling behind Rick's half lidded eyes. But he didn't know what to say. Couldn't form any coherent words that would put his friend at ease. Because he was afraid that that's just how things would be for the rest of their lives. There was no hiding the truth from anyone in any shape or form. The truth needed to be said in order for them to survive. The truth just needed to be said.

Looking away again, Daryl suddenly felt a warmth envelope his hand. Glancing down he found the source to be Rick's own fingers, rubbing small circles at the base of his knuckles. The fingers trailed around to his palm where Rick took his hand into his own. Daryl followed his arm up to his face again where he found that Rick had not looked back at him. However he did notice that the swirling storm consuming Rick's features had calmed slightly. In that moment Daryl had to desperately restrain from forcing his leaders attention back on him and claiming those neglected lips.

The blood loss was beginning to take its toll on him now. His vision swirled as he tried to look to the road for something to distract himself with. Daryl let his head fall back, realizing just how heavy his body felt.

Rick gave his hand a quick squeeze, "Don't fall asleep on me now."

Daryl tried to look at him, however his eyes began playing tricks on him as he swore there were three Rick's swaying about, refusing to come into focus.

"Daryl" Rick had raised his voice to get his attention, "Daryl, talk to me."

He felt like he was out of his own body, pain not dulling but just getting easier to be used to. "Hm?"

"Stay with me."

"M' ri'ht here."

Rick untangled their hands and dug around behind his seat. He pulled up a tattered bag, unzipped it quickly and dug around for only a moment before pulling out a half-full water bottle.

Holding the bottle between his legs, Rick unscrewed the cap and held the bottle out.

"Drink. Gotta' keep ya' hydrated until we get home."

More for Rick's sake, Daryl took the bottle and took a few swigs. The water was room temperature and stale, but man, did it work wonders. The spell lifted enough for him to see straight. Mostly.

The hunter took the cap from Rick's hand and secured it back on the bottle before putting it in the cup holder.

Wordlessly he reached across Rick's lap and reclaimed his hand, intertwining their fingers. The warmth of Rick's palm kept him grounded. Reminded him that he wasn't dead yet. Encouraged him even, to fight off death at every turn.

He pulled his leaders jacket from his wound, a sudden wave of guild hitting him. It wasn't exactly warm out and the heater in this truck stopped working months ago. He felt guilty for robbing Rick of his warmth, as he inspected the gash. The blood had finally stopped flowing, but he decided it best to keep pressure on it, just in case.

His mind made up, Daryl slid closer to Rick, thankful for the conjoined middle seat. He pressed himself as close as possible without obscuring the others capability to drive and rested his head on Rick's shoulder.

Nothing was said for a while as they covered the ground back to the prison. Back to their home.

It wasn't until the prison was in sight that Rick let out a light sigh, "I could never leave you."

_Like I said, I had a hard time thinking up a prompt that really fit this song. I didn't intend to get into how Daryl got hurt. It just sorta happened. But, I was really happy about how the ending turned out._

_Anyway, thanks for reading. Please drop a review if you have the time, they are what encourage me to keep writing. _

_Also follow me for regular updates and feel free to follow me on Tumblr xoxanimenurdxox for more Rickyl and TWD stuff._


	4. Folsom Prison Blues

**Description**: Prison setting. Spring storms confide the group to the dingy cellblocks. Not everyone is displeased with is however, as everyone knows, story nights are perfect cuddle weather.

**Warnings**: fluff and light romance.

I own nothing

**Folsom Prison Blues**

_I hear the train a comin'_

_It's rolling round the bend_

_And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when,_

_I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on_

It was nights like this that had the group rethinking the idea of holding onto the prison so tightly. The dull gray of the walls were darkened to a near black in the late fall night. Heavy rain had begun to fall yesterday mid-evening and had yet to lighten up. Through the bar windows the yard could be seen, flooded and miserable. The only thing that provided light were the slow burning kerosene lamps, placed about the cells and common area, and the occasional crack of blinding lightning.

The group ate inside that night, a meager stew scrapped together for nutrition rather than flavor. The cool dank air clung to everyone's skin, small talk being the only thing that brought them comfort. People from Woodbury were sectioned together, not yet familiar with the survival group from Atlanta. While the others lounged about, used to the steely depressing feeling in side of the prison that came along with harsh weather.

The sun had set shortly after their meal, casting the concrete fortress into shadows.

Glenn had just left to relieve Michonne of watch duty, when the first members excused themselves for bed. With the raging storm, no one made an attempt to do any outside work, opting to sleep through the boredom.

Rick, however, possessed no desire to sleep yet, deciding instead to make a list of any supplies they would soon need. He said his good nights to the group, patting his son lovingly on the shoulder and placing a kiss upon his daughters head before she was whisked away by Beth. Daryl had offered to help him but he knew that his partner had been jonesing to whittle himself some new bolts before the storm passed. He ensured the hunter that he could take care of the 'paper work' himself.

Taking a flashlight, he made his way to the food supply first. Flashing over each item they had, he made note of what necessities they were running low on. The sheriff checked the artillery next, deciding to organize their stock in case someone needed to find something in a hurry. This process had taken a few hours as Rick busied himself with the tedious work. It wasn't until his watch read 11:14 pm that he decided he would head to bed.

As Rick passed through the common area, he heard a rapid clattering of the rigid metal walkway within their cell block. His heart clenched for a moment in fear when he heard the butterfly-light whimpers of a baby crying. Out of habit, he hurried his steps at the distressed noise, pure darkness greeting him.

When he heard the sound of someone gently shushing the cries, however, he let his heart rest as he realized it was not a life threatening plead that left the lungs of his baby girl.

Rick unlocked the door, attempting to quiet the clanking echoes that came from the rusted metal.

The dim light of Rick's flashlight intertwined with the warm glow of a kerosene lamp perched on the top step. Shadows decorated the bland gray, faintly illuminating the figure of Daryl crouched beside the dancing flame. The leader couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips at the sight. His hunter sat shirtless, cradling a cooing Judith in his arms, rocking her gently to sleep.

Though he couldn't make out his features in the waning light, Rick was sure he had noticed his presence long before he made his slow ascent up the rickety steps. Without word, the sheriff slid the lamp over as Daryl moved to make room for him to sit beside them. Leaning into his partner, he craned his neck to study his calming daughters face. Eyelids now growing heavy, she absentmindedly grasped at Daryl's offered fingers. She appeared to take comfort in knowing that there were people there to protect her from the violent storm that had undoubtedly woken her.

Rick suddenly felt more relaxed than he had in years, tenderly wrapping an arm around his lovers waist, pulling him in closer. He didn't look up to see the tired content in Daryl's eyes. He didn't need to. He felt it in the way he melted into his side in comfort, his usual sharp-edge walls no where to be seen. The two rested their heads together in silence, staring down at the god-given miracle blanketed in a cloud of white.

The two sat this way for several minutes, breathing in the scent of honest peace, the only sound being caused by the rain pounding against their walls and the growing snores of baby Jude.

"Got the artillery organized. Made a list for the next run too." Rick said, voice full of gravel as he decided to break the silence.

"Tha's good. We're head'd out two days from now." Daryl shivered ever so slightly from the cold settling in on his skin.

Rick noticed his tremor and ran his hand up and down the others side, attempting to warm him up to no avail. His other hand came up to wrake a few fingers over his sleeping daughter rosy cheek.

"Come on. We should prob'ly head up to bed."

Without another word the two lazily stood. The sheriff grabbed the slow burning kerosene lamp, leading the way back to their cell. Daryl had long ago made his stay in Rick's cell after their relationship started, his place on the catwalk forgotten.

The hunter gently laid a sleeping Judith in her makeshift crib next to their bed before plopping himself down on the rustled mattress.

It appeared to Rick that his partner had already settled in for the night before his fussy baby had awoken him.

He removed his boots and socks, placing them by the door. Next came his shirt. While he knew the cold would undoubtedly work its way into his muscles, he wanted nothing more than to engross himself in the head radiating off of Daryl. It was there that he knew he would be most comfortable.

He crawled his way up from the foot of the bed, in between his favorite redneck and the stone wall. Laying on his side, he wrapped his arm around the hunters waist, pulling him in close yet again. Their legs tangled together in a growing familiarity, sharing their body heat. Rick dug his nose into the others hair and breathed in the scent that was distinctly Daryl.

The barred windows shook with the wind and rain, filling the air with something of a lullaby. At that moment, Rick couldn't help but place butterfly-light kisses along the others nape. Daryl let out a hum of appreciation at the action, intertwining his fingers with the hand that caressed his waist. The hunter brought the claimed hand to his mouth where he offered several kisses in return. When the ex-cops pecks became more sloppy, Daryl let out a chuckle, "Don't start w'th me, Grimes. 'M too tired f'r that sh't."

Rick continued his exploring however, making his way down Daryl's neck and onto his shoulder. The warmth of the body in his embrace was enticing. He couldn't help his mind but to wonder to all of the things they could do with the cover of the noise the storm was making. As he thought this, a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a crack of thunder that reverberated off the prison walls. He paused for a moment, grinning against the others skin, "Ya' sure? I could make it worth y'er while." To this, Daryl shook his head.

After a few moments of silence Rick continued, reclaiming his hand and rubbing sensual circles into Daryl's thigh, "All this noise is a good thang', ya' know." He ran his fingers over the stiff fabric of Daryl's crotch, trying eagerly to gain a response. Daryl shifted under the touch, his lower half leaning into the touch while he dug his face iinto their shared pillow. He muffled his laugh as Rick continued his assault, "Rick, stop."

Although his words were fleeting, Rick could tell that his body said otherwise.

Daryl turned his head in an attempt to face his counterpart, "Rick." He almost whined. Well, as much as a Dixon's voice could.

The sheriff took the opportunity to claim Daryl's mouth on his own. He lazily moved his lips over the chapped ones beside him before forcing his way on top of his partner. The kiss quickly became heated as the friction between their bare skin urged the pair on.

There was no place in the world that Rick would rather be than here. Wrapped in a fierce battle of tongue with the one significant other that he could not live without. His baby girl safe and out of harms way, bundled up in swirl of dreams that didn't know the horrors of the outside world. Their group, their family, sound asleep, a roof over their heads and in a peace of mind, knowing that the flesh eating walkers outside had no hopes of getting in. Sensual rain washing away the blood long soaked into the Georgia soil. No worries. Jist him, his love, his children, his family safe under the strong roof of their new home.

_Woo, another one down. Had a lot of fun with this one. Hope you all enjoyed. Thank you to all those who followed me on tumblr :-) all those who still wish to, my blog is always open xoxanimenurdxox TJ on the Rocks. Just drop a message in my inbox to let me know where you came from and join me for fangirling over the season 5 premiere tomorrow! ( gaaah, I'm so excited for that!) Your support is always appreciated!_


	5. I Walk The Line

**Description**: Road to Terminus setting. After the governor's final assault on the prison, the group is left scattered and broken. Daryl struggles with his moral high ground after joining a group that calls themselves the claimers. Finally accepting that his love and family are gone, Daryl ventures down a darker, more twisted path. That is until he is reunited with some old friends. Daryl POV

Side note: this is a familiar scene, however some phrasing and order will be changed to fit the situation. Its basically the same but some of the men also try to rape Daryl. So dialog has also been added to fit that prompt.

**Warnings: violent and sexual content. Contains death and attempted rape. A little smutty.**

I own nothing

**I Walk the Line**

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine_

_I keep my eyes wide open all the time_

_I keep the ends out for the tie that binds_

_Because you're mine, I walk the line_

He couldn't be sure how many days it had been. The distant smoke of the once proud prison that they called home billowing into the heavens with horrific crys. A war was waged that day and while they had succeeded in killing Phillip, that persistent bastard they once called The Governor, they had still lost. In the end, no one had won.

Daryl was defeated when he and Beth fled the smoldering rubble and realized that everyone was already dead. The shock and sorrow that came with losing a loved one came full frontal when the two ventured around the perimeter in search of the others. As the minutes turned into hours and night began to engulf the land, the hunter realized that this would not be like when they lost the farm. Try as he might, he couldn't find a single clear sign that anyone but them had stepped out alive. This time, there was no regrouping. Everyone he came to care about was gone.

And now even Beth.

Watching those headlights carry away the last person he considered family had finally shattered the cracking glass that was Daryl's spirit. Broken and defeated, he had laid out in the open, unprotected and vulnerable. Though he had barely heard the sounds of people approaching him, cutting through the fog that settled in his mind, he could find no will to grasp his weapon. He was a fighter, yes. But he was a fighter for others. He needed other people to protect in order to fight so fiercely. Now that it was just him, he scarcely had the energy to even look up as six pairs of boots encircled him.

'You'll be the last man standing.' Beth's word circled in his mind as one of the pairs of boots approached him. Though the man in front of him spoke, the hunter couldn't process a single word that was said to him.

'I need you, Daryl.' Rick's distant memory cascaded with the gentleness of Beth's sentiment.

They were speaking all around him now, about him, closing in.

'I can't go with ya' man. I can't.' His brother's pleas joined into the swirling mess.

The man in front of him reached out a hand.

'You're a part of that family.'

'You're every bit as good as them. Every bit.'

'My family is right here! And back at the prison!'

'Like it or not, we're in this together.'

The chaos raging in his mind exploded when he felt the man in front of him graze his shoulder. Standing to his tallest height, Daryl wisped himself up, reflexes landing a blow directly to the man's nose and using the time to swipe up his crossbow. He took aim, false confidence and strength making him look menacing and dangerous.

That had been days ago. While he carried on, he felt like an empty shell. His body was on autopilot, braking down to bare survival instinct. There was no rhyme nor reason he followed this ragtag group. He simply didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he himself had died on that prison yard with his friends. Even as he watched the poor-sap who tried to frame him, getting mercilessly beaten to a pulp. He listened mindlessly to the sound, a mantra reverberating through his empty skull, as the last bit of life was taken from the man. The only thing reminding him that he was alive were the occasional ghost, guilting him for his failure. Each time he let his eyes rest he found himself reliving a life he didn't think he could miss. The happy memories of being caged within the prison walls, tormenting his every sleeping moment. The worst of all were the ones of Rick. The man who handcuffed his brother to a roof and eventually made him realize that he didn't deserve the abuse that Merle bestowed upon him. The man who looked to him in ways that no one ever did before. The man who scrapped his sorry ass out of the dirt and gave him a reason to carry on each day.

The man who gave him purpose, who showed him the real man that he could be. Who showed him love and trust, something he had never truly experienced in his life. Fleeting memories would work their way into his mind late at night. Flashes of stolen kisses between him and his leader. The loving eyes of baby Judith as the hunter rocked her gently in his arms. The laughter shared between him and his group members. The nights he and Rick would spend in their cell, legs intertwined and raspy breath divided amongst them.

The group had known for some time now that there had been something else beside brotherly love going on between them. Instead of judging or attacking them for it however, the group had been supportive. Happy for them even. Being a man of action rather than fuss with words, Daryl had never brought himself to say 'I love you'. He didn't want to unless he was sure. Didn't want to because feelings are a fragile and easily expendable thing. He wasn't even sure what love felt like. What made it real.

But he knew now. Knew that he had been a fool for not saying those three words before Rick was gone. He now knew that he had, in fact, been in love with Rick Grimes. Because now that he was gone, he felt nothing. The loss had cast him out, with nothing left to hold onto.

The Claimer's, as they called themselves, were tracking a man who attacked them a few days ago, killing one of their numbers. With no care as to what they did, Daryl followed them blindly. He ignored the stares he received from them, some in desire, some in disgust, as they made their way. They had settled down for the night, setting up their precautions in a circle around an open fire in the woods. They had found a recently turned up trail, leading away from the attack scene, that seemed promising. They had decided to continue on the trail in the morning. That is, until they heard the sound of near by travelers. The group packed up, Daryl opting to sit this one out and stay behind.

"Sounds like it ain't my probl'm." He had dryly stated when asked why he harbored no desire to help them. Joe, their unappointed leader, hadn't pushed the subject, wanting to catch up to the strangers before they disappeared.

They had just gotten out of sight in the dark shadows when curiosity got the better of him, however. Deciding, like a scared child, to watch the violent mayhem from a far.

The hunter followed the sound of Joe's enthusiastic voice, "And we thought about turning in for the night on New Years Eve!"

As he closed in on the scene however, a mixture of 'not being able to believe' and utter horror washed over him, drenching him to his very core. It took him a hazy moment to process the faces of what he was sure were more ghosts. He couldn't comprehend the idea that it was Rick, and Michonne seated between the bloodthirsty men, Carl being viciously drug out of the worn down car parked behind them. The older man had his pistol aimed at Rick's temple.

"Let's count down the ball, shall we? 10, 9, 8-"

An old familiar spark cracked within him, reminding him that he was a fighter. A fighter for others. Realizing that they were indeed alive and that he still had a family to fight for, his body sprang into action. He stepped out from his secluded hiding spot, unable to keep his gaze off of the scared look in his lover's eyes.

"Joe!"

When he was noticed, it was by everyone. One moment he was a creeping shadow, the next every pair of eyes were following him. He approached the gathering with caution.

He desperately pleaded with the man to see reason, choosing his words wisely, his tone submissive and guarded, "These are good people. you want blood? I get it. Take it from me, man."

The proud hunter laid down his weapon, palms facing out so the group knew that he wasn't going to try and retaliate.

The former sheriff wore a mask of guarded tension, his eyes betraying that he was worried but were obviously attempting to hide just how much. Michonne and Carl were unable to do so however, their fear etched into the fine details of their faces. The group he had been traveling with looked confused, snatching glances between each other in earnest. Joe appeared to be astounded that the man in front of him was willing to give up his life for what appeared to him to be strangers.

"Now you say, Daryl, that these are good people. Now I think our friend Lue would disagree. I'll have to speak for him of course, seeing that your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

He paused to let the statement sink in before continuing, "Now that right there, is a lie."

As soon as the final word left the claimer's mouth, the group took action. The two who weren't holding his friends advanced on him, one taking the butt of his rifle to Daryl's stomach. All the air left his lungs as he curled over from the impact, his vision going blurry as another blow was dealt to his head. The hunter hoped that he would be able to burden the revenge the claimer's had out for his group. But it appeared their thirsts were craving blood in the new apocalyptic world. The redneck did little to defend himself, praying to a god he no longer believed in, that the new threat would be satisfied with just him.

The merciless blows ceased for a moment as two pairs of hands hauled him to his feet, slamming his beaten and bloody form against the cold metal of the car. One hand came up to grasp roughly in his hair, forcing him to look back at the scene he wished he knew a way out of. Daryl felt a hand run up his shirt to his chest seductively, another groping his ass in a way that made him feel horrendously uncomfortable. Calloused fingers snaked around his throat, making it hard to breath as he felt the laughing breath of the men assaulting him. Fearing for the worst, Daryl couldn't help but seek out the watery eyes of his lover, trying to convey a level of apology in what he knew could very well be his final moment.

He had realized before what the admiring stares of his temporary new group had meant. He had witnessed plenty of them before. The hunter just chose to ignore them, planning on splitting from them soon enough. These were men, however, that took what they wanted, when they wanted and guessed that it had only been Joe's words of warning before that kept them from advancing on him in such a way, until now.

Staggering to catch his breath, one eye swelling and clouding his vision, he tried to be strong. Strong for his family. Strong for Rick.

He felt the hot breath of one of the men as he leaned in closer to him to whisper, "Fuckin' finally, I've had my eye on yo'r sweet ass since we picked ya' up."

Daryl watched as Joe prodded the side of Rick's temple with the barrel of his gun, malis lacing his voice "Ya' look nervous there, pal. What's got ya' so worried?"

The older man surveyed the situation, looking in between his anxious men, and locking onto the stare that he and Rick had yet to pull themselves out of. A moment later and realization came over the claimer's features. One thing Daryl hated about Joe was that he could read people like an open book, including him. The man let his head fall back in a laugh, "Oh no, don't tell me-?"

Looking intent, Joe pulled back the hammer on his pistol, cocking it back. Daryl couldn't help the wave of panic that flooded over him as he suddenly made a desperate attempt to pry himself from the roaming hands holding him down. "Oh, so its true? The two of ya' a thing? Is that it Daryl?" Joe held the most condescending grin as he met the fiery glare of Daryl, obtaining his answer without verbal confirmation.

Joe took a hold of the scruff of Rick's jacket, adjusting the angle at which he held his weapon, "Well, I'll be damned!" He let out another amused chuckle.

"Well than, this jus' gotta little more interestin', didn't it?"

The voice at his ear continued, "Im'ma take real personal pleasure in fuckin' tha' life outta' ya." He finished with a laugh.

Daryl gritted his teeth as he watched the older man lean over Rick's shoulder to say in his ear, "Here's how we'll do it than. My boys here, are gonna beat and fuck ye'r boyfriend ta' death. Then ye'r lady-friend. Then ye'r boy." Joe paused between each sentence, allowing the biting edge to sink into Rick's veins, "Then-then I'll kill ya' myself." The older man smiled coarsely down at Rick, gaging his response. When he was met with a stone glare, Joe glanced up at the two men still groping at Daryl's heaving body, giving them a nod.

Rick couldn't help but flinch as Daryl's head was slammed down on the hood of the car, blood splattering on the unforgiving metal from his open wounds. As he went down, Daryl caught a final glimpse of the horrified looks on his family's faces, silently saying goodbye. The two behind him worked together in pinning him down as one of them positioned himself behind the hunter. The man rubbed enticing circles along his hips and thighs for a moment before snaking his hands around to Daryl's belt buckle. He undid e flap with anxious hands and swiftly undid his pants in anticipation.

All the while, Rick couldn't watch as Daryl was man-handled before him, shaking with rage as his partner was taken advantage of. The sheriff knew that he would soon be forced to witness the same thing being done to Michonne and his son and the thought blinded him. Rick became desperate as he heard the vile comments being made to Daryl. He stole a glance up at his captor and realized that the one Daryl had called Joe was watching the scene with sick satisfaction. Feeling even more disgusted, he took the older mans distracted state as a window of opportunity. He threw his weight back at the man but was rendered deft when the ring of a shot being fired penetrated his ear drums. The shock of the sudden shot struck everyone. The man looming over Michonne flinched back, unsure of where the shot had come from. The sword-wielder swiftly overpowered the confused man, taking his weapon. The large claimer, who had been busy drooling over Carl, appeared to panic, scooping the boy up and taking him hostage. The two men hovering over Daryl had been distracted as it was, the loud bang setting them into a confused and stunned state, loosening their hold on the hunter. Daryl took the opportunity to wrench one of his arms free from their grasp, swinging his elbow out to sharply jab the one behind him in the throat. Now freed, he spun in place, landing a bone-cracking punch to the other ones face. By the time this was done, Daryl looked up just in time to see the shocking image of Rick wrestling with Joe, before sinking his teeth deep into the older man's neck and ripping out his bloody jugular.

Daryl shook the trauma from his mind. Now that he had his companions back, he wasn't about to lose them. Doing what he had to, the Redneck tackled the man still gasping for air, taking him with him to the ground. The hunter searches feverishly at the fallen man waist, finding a handgun and unholstering it. He cocked the chamber, and pulled the trigger, aiming directly at the man's abdomen. Daryl got to his feat, swiftly putting a second bullet in his other attacker. He staggered to his feet and he wasn't sure what to make of the sight that met him.

Rick was currently in a blind fury, blood soaking his face and chest, his partner had managed to separate his son from the large claimer. Daryl stood back in shock beside Michonne who was hugging a terrified looking Carl as Rick violently plunged a knife into the skull of the last offender. Daryl couldn't find any words as his leader repeated the action an unnecessarily gory amount of times, molten red liquid splashing out with each blow. He wanted to stop his lovers rampage but knew that it was no use. Rick needed to take out his anger. And rightfully so.

Once exhausted from the effort, Rick left his gaze downcast, unable to meet the eyes that followed him. He stood on shaking knees and staggered past them without a word, making his way to collect their belongings and pack them in the car.

Daryl watched him from behind his unkempt bangs, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. Instead, the hunter became aware that his pants were still undone. He reached down to fix his belt and noticed how badly his hands were shaking. Once righted, Daryl couldn't help but stare at his palms in utter astonishment.

The group packed up without any word, unsure of what to say after such a violent and rendering encounter.

The vehicle didn't work, however no one in their group appeared to want to sleep amongst the corpses that now littered their makeshift campsite. This was more of an excuse, silently given by each one of them. Sleep seemed to be the last thing on each of their minds as they sat silently in the cab of the truck. The group simply needed to cast their eyes away from the scene which could have ended so much worse.

Dawn couldn't have come soon enough. Rick was the first to exit the vehicle, claiming to keep watch with the growing light.

It was shortly after this that Daryl couldn't keep the silence any longer. He exited the car to find Rick sitting along the other side, staring blankly into the forest.

Not knowing how to start a conversation that he would usually avoid at all cost, he decided to wet a rag from their supply and offer it to his partner. He hadn't noticed until he was directly in front of Rick that his eyes were trained steadily on him. "We should save it."

His voice was rough and full of gravel, Daryl noticed, but he couldn't help but push forward, "Ya' can't see yourself. We can."

Rick accepted the rag reluctantly, a sliver of appreciation in his eyes. The hunter sat next to him, feeling the weight of the last few days weigh heavy on his shoulders.

The air was silent for a moment as Rick dabbed the damp rag along his face.

"I didn't know who they were." Daryl tried, the sudden need to gain a response from Rick overpowering him. He studied the still bloodied features of Rick as he continued, "I me'n, I knew th'y were bad guys. Jus' not tha' kinda' bad."

Dropping his gaze, Daryl didn't know what else to do. Before he was forced to continue explaining himself however, Rick had gently grasp his chin, bringing their gazes together. There was a moment of silence as the two searched each others eyes before Rick bent forward to bring their lips together. It was a soft and conveying kiss, tainted only by the taste of a dead man's blood.

It ended too quickly when Rick pulled back and rested their foreheads together, breathing in the air of their reobtained peace. The steel exterior he had built up since last night melted away, the painful joy he felt now showing through his body language as he stroked Daryl's cheek lovingly.

Rick held his gaze, "Hey, it's not on you, Daryl."

Rick's cobalt blue eyes held him in a mesmerizing gaze, whole and captivating and so very Rick like. He still couldn't believe that the man, now sharing his body heat as he leaned in close, was really his Rick. "You're here now and that's all that matters."

Daryl opened his mouth to say something else but closed it again when words failed him. He couldn't escape the swirling haze that settled over him yet again, only this time instead of harsh demons they were angels of grace asking how he had been so lucky.

It was in that moment that Daryl decided to say what he hasn't been able to before, "I-I love you."

His leader couldn't hold back the odd mix of passion and fear swelling in his chest. They locked lips again, swirling on a high that only came from the comfort of one another.

_I had a good time writing this one. Hope ya'll enjoyed! Please leave a review if you have time. Thanks again for reading!_


	6. Get Rhythm

**Description**: prison setting. Times are always rough, but when Rick has a particularly depressing day Daryl does his best to cheer him up. Daryls POV

**Warning: contains sexual content and rickyl fluff.**

I own nothing.

**Get Rhythm**

_Get a rock 'n' roll feelin' in your bones_

_Put taps on your toes and get gone_

_Get rhythm when you get the blues_

Daryl knew something was wrong when he sat down for dinner. It was a regular routine that he would be one of the last to join the new conjoined group for whatever bare meal was prepared that night. The hunter would enter the yard and into their meal station to find their original Atlanta group sharing a table. Daryl would take his rightful place tightly packed onto the bench beside Rick, bodies pressed together, casually conversating as they ate.

However, today was different. Their leader was no where to be seen and while he wanted to go looking for him, he knew that suffocating the ex-sheriff wouldn't be the best thing to do. The man had plenty of other crowded problems to worry about and Daryl only wanted to lighten the load. The redneck had past the makeshift garden on his way here and knew that his partner was not there. While the edgy feeling at not knowing where Rick was snaked its way into his gut he decided to ignore it, reassuring himself that the other man would join them soon. Last thing he wanted was to seem like some clingy damn teenager.

Daryl decided instead, to sit between Carol and Beth, absentmindedly discussing their supply needs. He vaguely paid attention as the group bounced ideas off of one another, his mind still worrying over unlikely perall situations that Rick could have gotten himself into.

The hunter finished his meal quickly, deciding to scout out the perimeter for their leader before night fell. It was a particularly pleasant evening, the sweltering heat of the summer day down casted as the sun fell behind the horizon, a soft breeze playing at his worn tussles. The hunter took his time, closing his eyes for a moment and mussing over the idea that it almost felt as if the world hadn't ended. That is, if it weren't for the constant growl of the undead beings desperately trying to overcome the barrier of the fences and rip off his flesh.

Daryl had known that the prison yard was barren before, even the late stragglers gone, hungry for a portioned meal. However, someone was here that wasn't before. That someone just so happened to be the man he was in search of.

Rick was in the garden, tirelessly hacking away at the turned up soil with a ho, sweat stained shirt clinging to his skin.

Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn't admiring the masculine form showing through the other man's dirty white shirt as he approached. His eyes followed the way each muscle flexed under the effort of driving the tool into the ground. He even felt his face burn at the sight of Rick's ass each time he bent over to strike a blow.

The redneck approached silently. Now knowing that Rick was in no real danger, he didn't want to disturb the man from his exhausting work. If only to watch the way his body moved with the effort a little while longer.

'Damn, this 's better th'n a fuckin' porno these days.' While he felt the grin cross his lips, he made no effort to hide it.

As if feeling the eyes on him, Rick glanced over his shoulder, gaging the new presence. With one final swing of his ho, the ex-officer turned to face Daryl, leaning on the tool as he caught his breath.

"Like what'cha see?"

Daryl crossed his arms over his broad chest, his grin quickly developing into a genuine smile, "Always do wit' you."

It was Rick's turn to smile as he leaned into his perch and glanced at the ground. When he looked back up at the man in front of him however, Daryl noticed that the curve of his lips appeared strained, almost forced.

"Miss'd ya' at dinner tonight. And ya' weren't here earlier. Everythin' alrigh'?" Daryl brought up a hand over his brow as he tried to keep the last rays of daylight from blocking his vision.

Rick's smile slowly depleted as the air was filled with silence. Down casting his gaze yet again, he nodded, looking unreassuring even to himself. "Wasn't here earlier. Was checkin' things out in the tombs."

Daryl noticed that Rick hadn't really answered his question because it appeared in his every move that something was definitely not alright.

"Ya' got watch tonight?"

Rick shook his head, "Nah."

Daryl watched closely as his leaders' eyes looked everywhere but at him now, "Well, I was headed up ta' help Glenn go over tha' stock for our next run. Comin'?"

Rick glanced over his shoulder at the half tilled garden, "Nah. Figure I'd finish up here f'rst."

It didn't pass by him that they only had a few minutes of light left, making the idea of outside work near impossible in the dark.

"How's about we spend th' night in one o' th' East towers than?" The towers on the east side of the prison faced mostly forest cover and the broad side of the prison, making them secluded and useless for watch duty. The hunter hoped that Rick would take the hint that he eventually wanted to talk about whatever was bugging him, in private.

Finally meeting his eye again, Rick nodded, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

Daryl left without another word, speculating over what could be eating at his partner so profoundly that he didn't feel like sharing it with him. Rick always shared his thoughts with him.

True to his word, Daryl tracked his way back into the prison to help Glenn, Maggie, and Herschel go over their current stock. They made a list of what they would soon need in the dim glow of candle-light. Once finished, each said their goodnights, Glenn and Maggie making their way to their shared cell. Herschel hesitated before following, noticing that Daryl didn't retreat his way with them but, to Daryl's thanks, he didn't inquire as to why.

While the the task hadn't taken long, Daryl silently hoped that his partner wasn't still trying to mercilessly work in the pitch black of night. He wandered past the garden yet again and while it was difficult to see, he was certain there was no movement. The hunter crept his way around the prison's perimeter, keeping his senses on high alert for any signs of danger, as he made his way to the other side. When the first tower came into view, a dark silhouette rising above the fences, he caught a glimmer of light coming from the high perched window. Knowing that it could only be one person, Daryl followed the glow. He adjusted the crossbow that was strung along his back, making sure that it would not fall as he made his ascent up the drop down ladder. Before he reached the top however, the trap door swung open with a creaky whine. The figure of Rick was now poised above him, offering a hand as he made the final step into the watch room, closing the hatch behind him.

"Ya' finished awfully quick." It was a greeting rather than a question that Daryl offered.

Instead of responding however, the ex-officer pulled him from his squatting position over the door and pulled their bodies closely together. He stared distantly into Daryl's features, some of the strange worry still present in his cobalt eyes as he snaked a hand around Daryl's waist, pulling them flush. Daryl was the first to close the gap between them, bringing their lips together in a gentle kiss. Neither tried to deepen it, simply enjoying the welcoming kindness from one another's presence. Rick's free hand searched out that of the hunter's, lazily intertwining their fingers as the kiss stretched on.

Finally pulling away for air, Rick licked his lips, savoring the flavor that was distinctly Daryl. The leader said nothing as he softly pulled his body from his, keeping their fingers locked as he led him to the makeshift bed set up in the corner. Rick had dragged one of the cell mattresses from the prison up here a while ago, making this their unappointed private meeting place. The dull gray of the material was lit up by one kerosene lamp placed next to it, its rough polyester looking more appealing the closer they got to it.

Silently Rick laid back on the spread, looking more tired and worn out than usual. Leaning down to fit Rick's position, Daryl pulled his hand free to remove his crossbow and the knife holstered at his hip. He set them down next to is partners' already dispensed gun belt beside them and climbed on top of Rick, straddling him.

The ex-sheriff let out a slight grunt as Daryl seated himself, his growing need now obvious. The hunter ran his hands up the other's chest, before bringing them down to the rim of his shirt. He gave a lazy tug, indicating for Rick to sit up. His leader complied as Daryl removed his shirt before depositing of it to the concrete floor. They kept their eyes locked as Daryl finally spoke, tired gravel lacing his voice, "turn 'round."

The hunter propped himself up to give Rick room as he did as he was told and turned to lay on his stomach, cradling his head in his arms.

He reseated himself on his partners back and made quick work of massaging the tight knots forming in Rick's muscles.

His leader let out a few moans of appreciation before Daryl finally decided to push the subject that he had worried himself over since their last meeting. "So, gonna' tell me wha's been eatin' at ya'?" He skillfully worked his fingers into each crevice of Rick's back as he spoke.

"Mhhf- I don't know. Jus' everythin' I guess." Rick let out something similar to a purr as he dug his palms into the contour of his spine before he continued, "Winter'll be here- 'fore we know it an' we haven't been gettin' lucky on our r-runs as it is."

Daryl knew very well of this issue, it plagued his mind each day as each run came back nearly empty handed. He decided not to interject, knowing that Rick would continue when he was ready. Instead he paused in his assault to remove his own vest and shirt before grinding his fingers into the prone man's exposed back. He bent down close to the nape of his neck, gently brushing his lips over the tanned skin. He rubbed his thumbs in tight circles, gaining a prolonged groan from the man below him.

"'M worried 'bout Carl too. Mh- Worried wha' the world 's doin' ta' h-him." Daryl hummed in acknowledgment. He planted several more light kisses to Rick's spine before emulating a response, "'s a tough kid. Fighter. Been doin' good a' keepin' a level head through all th's."

It was Rick's turn to hum in response, not having anything else to say. Instead of prying further, the hunter sucked small marks onto Rick's shoulder and neck, his hands still working vigorously. The silence was only filled with the leaders moans as Daryl massaged the tension from his body. The noises falling from his partners lips were driving him crazy as he alternated between sucking and biting any skin he could reach.

"Shit Daryl." The form beneath him let out a slow huff of air, "Y're killin' me here."

Daryl couldn't help the triumphant grin that spread across his lips as he sat back up. Ignoring how cliche the action was, he attempted to flip some of the hair from his eyes, wanting to see the melting form of Rick as he worked. Slowly ceasing his motions, the hunter gave a final squeeze to Rick's hip, before propping himself on all-four to allow his partner to turn around yet again. This time when their eyes met, Rick's eyes were substantially less worried and now clouded over with lust. The sheriff, unable to wait, wrapped a hand around Daryl's neck, forcing him down into a heated kiss. Their tongues quickly intertwined in growing familiarity as Daryl unbuttoned the other man's pants. In that moment Daryl wanted nothing more than to make his leader forget the strain the day had put on him. He wanted to mask the horrors of their new world, no matter how temporary. He wanted to drop Rick in a sea of pleasure until he drown in bliss, the only thing on his mind being him.

The hunter swiftly unzipped Rick's fly and pushed his pants and boxers down far enough that his growing erection was freed. Taking a firm hold, he began stroking the man below him and savoring each incoherent moan that was passed. Their lips still worked together in a sloppy mess, the air growing hot between them. Rick only broke off from this rhythm once, "Fuck, Daryl." Before smashing their mouths back together. A few moments of this and suddenly Rick worked his roaming hand to Daryl's chest where he lightly pushed. Daryl took the hint and got up far enough to remove his jeans, enjoying the birds-eye view of Rick fully shedding himself of his own pants. Before disposing of them however, Rick dug around in one of his pockets, producing a tube of lube. Clearly Rick had planned ahead.

The hunter laid himself down flush on top of his partner, forcing their mouths together with more desperation. His cock was now throbbing in anticipation, pre-cum dripping from its tip, as Rick slicked three of his fingers with the lube. Rick encircled a digit around the hunters entrance as he laced his free hand into Daryl's unruly locks, trying desperately to bring their mouths closer. Daryl nudged his naked thigh with his leg, indicating for Rick to hurry up. At his say-so, the sheriff allowed his eagerness to show, pushing the first finger past the ring of muscles at Daryl's entrance. The hunter let out a low groan as the man below him took a quick pace at preparing him. Rick strung a line of nips and kisses along his lovers neck, lavishing in the response he gained. Now lost in a fog of want, his leader inserted a second digit, working them in and out feverishly. Daryl was at a loss of where to rest his hands. He needed one placed beside Rick's head to keep him elevated, however the other had begun to roam freely, wracking his nails over any bare skin that he found. Through the daze of pleasure, he willed his roaming hand to Rick's now neglected cock, pumping it in time with the sheriff's own assault.

His partner didn't wait long before divulging his third finger into the now quivering form of Daryl, arm shaking as he fought to keep himself from collapsing, "Come on, Rick- come on." He was quite aware that his voice sounded pleading and pathetic as he gasped out between moans, eyes closed.

Settling for less, his leader extracted his fingers, gaining a grunt of disapproval in response. Rick appeared to dig into his 'situational strength' as he firmly took a hold of Daryl's hips. In one quick motion, the ex-officer slid his body up the makeshift bed, pulling himself into a sitting position, back against the corner wall and bringing Daryl along with him. The hunter repositioned himself slightly as he continued to work the other mans' shaft. Rick hastily deposited some of the slick lube onto his already wet hand and used the other to force his hunter's fingers away. Daryl squeezed the other's thigh in anticipation, wrapping his tireless fingers into Rick's wild hair. As Rick spread the contents of lube over his swollen member, Daryl wasted no time in hoisting his form up, zestfully anticipating what would come next. With little warning, his partner lined himself up, one hand gripping his hip as he gingerly guided his body down onto him. They paused for a moment as Daryl let out a strung out moan, pleasure erupting through his body. Rick couldn't help the bucking of his hips as the slick friction overpowered him. Gasps and unintentional curses fell from both pairs of lips as they set a quick pace together as one. Daryl knew that he was already more than halfway spent when suddenly Rick took a painful hold of him, forcing the other man to slow down the rhythm of his thrusts. Rick took his time as he formed a new torpid pace, slow and painful in a mind numbing way. Daryl didn't mind the way his voice rose in volume, making him grateful for the secluded location they had decided on. Rick brought their mouths together as he continued his slow string of thrusts, the ample noises leaving his lover's mouth driving him over the edge. Daryl felt the pulse ring through his body as Rick began to stiffen beneath him, his partners seed spilling out hotly inside of him. He couldn't help but feel proud at the strained whine Rick let out around his tongue as he rode out his orgasm. This was all Daryl needed to see and feel for his own finish to creep up on him. He moaned loudly into Rick's mouth as steamy cum trailed from his cock which still bobbed desperately between their sweating bodies.

They separated their bruised lips as each threw their heads back in an attempt to get their rough breathing under control. The hunter's vision was still dancing with stars as he enjoyably waited out the feeling of coming down from what had to of been one of the greatest climaxes he had ever had.

Rick chuckled as he collected his wits. He leaned back in to suck lovingly at the tender spots of Daryl's neck before pushing him down flat against the mattress. His lips didn't stop their barrade as he pulled out of his lover's moist hole, savoring the feeling of his cum dripping between them.

The two lay wordlessly for a few moments, the only sound being Rick's sloppy kisses at his neck. Daryl had his legs spread, feeling drowsy as he was enveloped in Rick's warmth. He lazily ran his hands over the other man's back and tangled his fingers in Rick's now damp hair as he savored the afterglow shared between them. It was when Rick pulled his lips from his neck to prop himself up on his forearms and meet his eyes tenderly that Daryl realized how broadly he was smiling. His leader mirrored his grin and bent down to steal another slow drag from his lips before speaking, "Ya' always know jus' what ta' do ta' make me feel better."

The two shared several kisses through their conjoined laughter. "I try."

Rick pulled out the blanket he had set aside earlier to lay over them, the sheriff still on top of Daryl. It wasn't long before their heavy eyes drifted close. Neither were sure when the mindless goodnight kisses ended, simply that each were as content as could be as the pair allowed peaceful sleep to overcome them.

_Took me a while to think up a prompt for this one but I like the way it turned out! Thanks for the reviews and views so far! Hope to see ya' in the next chapter._


	7. Big River

**Description**: Rick speculates over his and Daryl's budding relationship over the last year, how bitter disdain morphed into silent understanding and companionship. Rick's POV

**Warning: mentions of sexual, violent content.**

I own nothing.

**Big River**

_I met her accidentally in St. Paul (Minnesota)._

_And it tore me up every time I heard her drawl, Southern drawl._

_Then I heard my dream was back Downstream cavortin' in Davenport,_

_And I followed you, Big River, when you called._

He could remember the first time he had laid eyes on the hard-to-read redneck. His worn out form materializing from the heavy forestry as if it were second nature. He remembered clearly the ball of nerves tangled in his gut at confronting the youngest Dixon brother, bearing bad news. Rick had expected to be greeted with a smaller looking Merle, explosive attitude and all. However, he had been surprised. Daryl's lank form made him look younger than he was, his anger manageable through words unlike his brother. His sharp blue eyes missed nothing and his wit was something to marvel at. Rick remembered over the first few days of knowing the capable hunter, the thing that separated him from his kin the most. It was a small detail that most others did not see, however it flipped the spectrum of how the sheriff actually saw Daryl. The best way he could think to describe it was the hunter was a kind, smooth spirit with a sheet of his brother's expectations laid over his true and just heart.

It wasn't until they had left the farm that Rick realized what Merle's absence did to him. While Daryl was understandably saddened by the loss of his only living relative, the hunter actually appeared happier and truer to his natural colors.

When Carol's daughter Sophia went missing, the Dixon had taken finding her to a personal level. Unlike his brother, Daryl began to show his dedication to others as he took it upon himself to lay out the search grid. The missing girl laid heavy on his shoulders as he became willing to work productively alongside his fellow group mates. It was then that the ex-officer began to appreciate having Daryl by his side in times of strategic danger. Somehow it came naturally to the pair to watch one anothers back, their common interests merging onto one straight and narrow path. It was apparent to Rick that Daryl was a follower despite his insistence at he would rather work alone. Without question he followed Rick's lead, filling in his vulnerable gaps and sharing the burden that came with survival.

They had connected through their spirits before anything else and it was the shot delivered by Andrea that made him realize just how devastated he would be if the hunter died. Watching what they had thought at the time was Daryl's bloodied and beaten body, turned Walker, approach them had been bad enough. But witnessing his body crumple to the sound of a single defining shot had made his blood run cold. He had sat beside Daryl's bedside after obtaining his story, the hunter fading in and out of consciousness. It was the first time Rick had caught himself admiring the sculpting muscles building beneath his smooth exposed skin. While he knew he was staring in a way that shouldn't feel so right, the officer felt content in knowing he was alive. He spent the time speculating over the cause of the deep scars that crisscrossed the hunter's back, arms and chest. A million possibilities had come and gone before he decided to leave Daryl's side and have dinner with the rest of the group that night. It wasn't until the first winter had fallen over them at the prison that Rick broached the subject.

Since Daryl's near death experience, the leader caught himself standing closer to the redneck. He would lean in closer when they spoke and stare at his fleeting form longer than was necessary. His gravely southern drawl became a melody that Rick had dreamt about on more than one occasion, lulling his dreams into smooth silk.

It had been just before they discovered the prison that Rick could no longer hold back his desire. The leader had almost laughed at the way Daryl had looked up at him and said, "While th' others are washin' th'r panties, let's go out n' hunt." Grateful for the seclusion, the pair had aimlessly began tracking through the thick woods in search of game. The hunter skillfully shot an arrow through the head of a Walker creeping up from behind him, possibly saving him as he had on so many other occasion. Rick practically gawked at the way he smoothly moved past him, reclaiming his arrow effortlessly. When the hunter made to backtrack the way he had came to continue their search, he paused, occupying Rick's personal space and waiting for his word to continue. The ex-officer's mind was a thousand miles away from the task at hand as he faintly felt the breeze of the other man's breath on his face. Rick honestly hadn't meant to do it, his impulses too strong, as he leaned forward and placed his lips on the hunters' at an awkward angle. Daryl had frozen next to him, obviously taken by surprise but not at all unwilling. He appeared to gather himself before shifting his body and bringing his fingers to play in Rick's hair. Once separated, the hunter confessed his confusion at Rick's attraction to him, not disappointed but unsure of what the leader discovered was a mutual desire. Over joyed that Daryl hadn't kicked his ass for acting on his impulse, he tried to embarrassingly explain his admiration for the Dixon. He was sure his face was bright red by the end of it but his companion had taken pity on him and stopped his rambling by locking their lips together for a second time.

It had taken a long time for them to call themselves an item. The group continued its excavate, overtaking the prison and settling in, new problems arising and falling. The only difference the two showed were in stolen moments alone, occasionally pulling each other aside to plant a much needed reassuring kiss on the others lips. That and late nights spent huddled together to battle the cold in one of the watch-tower, where no one could prove that heated make-out sessions had occurred.

It was one of those nights in the tower that the two had broken their frantic string of sloppy kisses to talk about their previous sexual experiences. Somehow, Rick had been deeply surprised to discover that Daryl had been in-the-closet Bisexual before the world turned, having some experience with same-sex encounters. Rick had confessed to never being attracted to another man before in his life and endured the playful jeers Daryl had made at him for it.

It was that night that Daryl popped the question of their sexual limits. The idea had crossed his mind and while he wasn't opposed to trying new things, he himself wasn't sure where his comfortability line stood. The hunter took the opportunity to ask him to test that line. Once approved, Daryl had sensually and carefully allowed his hands to roam. He sucked small marks along the leaders neck as Rick received the greatest hand-job of his life.

Once the barrier was broken, it seemed like Rick couldn't get enough. He began making their meetings more and more risky as he divulged in what he silently called his 'Daryl Dixon Addiction'. Barely a week had past before Rick had found himself pushing the hunter up against a wall in the lower library, having Daryl walk him through the steps as Rick fucked him in broad daylight. The experience had been over quicker than either of them would have liked, both being 'trigger-happy' after such a long period of no sex. They had made their way back to the group in the upper levels, desperately trying to hide their 'just got laid' looks.

It had been nearly two months since then, Rick thought, as he adjusted his position to bury his nose into the crook of Daryl's shoulder. They had planned the whole mission out. Yesterday morning Rick had brought up the idea to the group that he and Daryl make a run into a nearby town for supplies that they really didn't need. The pair secured a house for the night, planning to tell the others that they had been cut off by a hoard and forced to take shelter until morning came. In reality however, the two had spent the night in an upstairs bedroom in what Daryl vulgarly called 'Olympic marathon fucking'. This is what found them currently tangled together, naked in a neglected bed in an abandoned house. Daryl was fast asleep laying on his back, looking spent and in a state of deep content. Rick lay half way ontop of him, one arm wrapped around the sleeping mans waist, face now submerged in the crook of his lovers neck and shoulder. The hunter had fallen asleep with his arm around the ex-sheriff's neck, fingers still laced in his overgrown locks. It was still early, the sun barely peeking out from behind the horizon as Rick wished they could just spend the entire day wrapped in one another's warmth, alternating between blissful dozing and tender love-making. Wish as he might however, the leader knew that they would need to return as soon as the sun fully developed itself. He was certain that his partner would agree that they couldn't let their group worry about them any longer.

Knowing that their time was limited, Rick took a deep inhale of Daryl's scent to cherish. He wouldn't fuss over the fact that he would soon need to wake the comfortable looking hunter and disrupt his perfect state of calm. He simply lay there, lavishing the final few moments, wishing that one day, it could be like this all the time.

_Alright, this one is kinda short but I'll be honest, it took me a long time to come up with a prompt for this at all. I almost skipped it but then is idea came to mind and I decided to roll with it. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed! I'll probably get started on the next chapter as soon as I upload this one and eat something. Thanks for reading!_


	8. Guess Things Happen That Way

**Description**: reprise of Walk The Line from Rick's POV. Road to Terminus setting. Rick mourns the loss of his family after the governor's final assault on the prison.

**Warning: Violent and sexual content. Contains death and attempted rape. A little smutty.**

I own nothing

**Guess Things Happen That Way**

_Well you ask me if I'll forget my baby._

_I guess I will, someday._

_I don't like it but I guess things happen that way._

_You ask me if I'll get along._

_I guess I will, someway._

_I don't like it but I guess things happen that way._

He had lost count of the days, drifting in and out of consciousness. It had been a shock to see that man again, berating at his front door, sporting a new personal army and a tank to boot. Worst of all was seeing the stone cold faces of his family as The Governor produced Herschel and Michonne as hostages. He swore to step down from the leader position, revoking his claim of dictatorship over the group as he was willingly replaced by a diplomatic council. However he was forced to make a choice that no one-man should. Fight and kill innocent people along with his own group, or leave the prison, putting his family helplessly back out on the road. Neither were appealing. He tried, he did. He tried so hard for the power hungry man in front of him to see reason, to see that they could end this peacefully by coexisting alongside one another. But his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

As he limped desperately away from the smoldering rubble that was once their home, leaning on his son Carl for support, he was defeated. Beaten and bloody, Rick had no other choice but to flee the catastrophe that The Governor had brought with him. If only for his son's sake.

If it had been just him, sure that Carl and Judith were taken care of, he would have stayed. Stayed to finish fighting alongside his friends and died on that blood-stained field in earnest.

When Michonne saved him from being strangled to death, Rick used the last of his will to find those closest to him. The bus had already departed, a majority of those from Woodbury on board. It appeared however, that most if not all of the original group had stayed to fight, willing to give their lives to protect their home and loved ones. He past by plenty of familiar faces, but only found one out of the three he was most worried about. He and Carl had sprinted past the tank which The Governor's new group had brought along, worn metal now cshared as the entire machine was engulfed in flames. His eyes never stopping in their feverish search for Daryl and Judith. His heart had been crushed when they happened upon the empty car seat of baby Jude, crimson staining the interior. He had wanted to keep looking, to find any sign of them, dead or alive. But Carl had seen reality before he could, pulling him toward the tree line as they made their escape.

His mind was numb, the smell of sulfur burning and triggered gunpowder thick in the air. His mind refused to accept that his family was gone as he continued to search the area for any sign of life, forest tracks unreadable to him. He cursed himself for letting the group scatter so easily, knowing that if Daryl were here, he would be able to pick up any trails on their group.

He had almost forgotten the pain of the hole in his leg from being shot as he and Carl pushed a sofa over to cover the door of their makeshift hiding spot. The ex-officer had collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss, a venom laced sleep plaguing him. As if the horrific event hadn't been freshly traumatizing in his mind as it was, Rick suffered from a feaverish fit as his wounds throbbed in tune with his racing thoughts. Flashes of memories blended together in his dreams, good and bad.

Waking from his coma, finding Lori, Carl, and Shane, killing his best friend, meeting Daryl, falling out with Lori, discovering her betrayal and pregnancy, walking trails with Daryl, killing a little girl Walker, Lenner, holding his daughter in his arms for the first time, kissing Daryl for the first time, planting crops with Carl, joking with Daryl, Glenn and T, finding out Lori was dead, meeting The Governor for the first time, seeing Daryl cradle baby Judith, Carl getting shot, sharing a quiet cell with Daryl and Jude.

The memories swirled about in his head, making him unsure if he was truly dreaming or being damned to relive all the painful moments.

He woke in a cold sweat, Carl curled up in a corner of the livingroom, when he finally found the sense to do something about his open wounds. He had given up hope, only maintaining his basic survival instincts to keep his son out of harms way.

It wasn't until a knock at the door echoed through the empty house that Rick found a piece of his old spunk buried deep down. He whispt himself into action only to have his heart flutter at the sight that greeted him through the front doors peephole. The weary form of Michonne mirrored his 'last hope' happiness as they let her in.

It had been days since Michonne literally showed up at their front door step that Rick managed to halfway pull himself from the fog that settled low over his brain. They had decided to stay at the abandoned house until Rick gained back some of his strength, leaving Michonne and Carl to scavenge for food and supplies. The bed rest was bitter-sweet, his body thankful for the time to recharge, while his mind rewound through the last year, torchering himself at the constant reminder that they were gone now. He had a sliver of hope, since Michonne found them, that it was possible for others to be alive. However the rash part of his thoughts reminded him of the reason they hadn't wanted to give up the prison in the first place. It wasn't very likely that many were lucky enough to find a solid place to take shelter.

Rick spent days at a time laying out on the couch or the master bedroom's bed lost in thought. He would dream of his daughter and wake up nearly screaming, desperately seeking out Daryl's comforting form, only to be reminded that he was gone too.

Wanting nothing more than to get out of his own head, the leader began picking up books to pass the time. The cool weather seeping its way into the house made it uncomfortable but not unbearable. Taking comfort on the plush queen sized bed upstairs, Rick secluded himself in reading while he drank stale water to sooth his raw throat. Carl and Michonne had gone on a run, leaving Rick to himself. It was then that their hiding place had been compromised. A group of men had plundered through the house, digging up whatever they could find. Still weak, the ex-officer had hid to avoid confrontation. The men didn't seem friendly at all. He tried to make quick work of getting out of the house undetected before Carl and Michonne got back. He hadn't been entirely lucky however, when he was discovered in the upstairs bathroom and resulted in killing one of the men.

It had been a close call but in all honesty he was quite thankful to be out of the house and out in the crisp Georgia air again.

He wasn't sure how long ago it had been, days blending together in a void mix. Rick's wounds began to heal to a point of bearable discomfort as they made their way. Following a set of train tracks, they had come across a sign that raised alert. And then another. And another. They were makeshift maps, leading from all directions to one location. Terminus. While he had learned not to trust anything that seemed too friendly or too good to be true, it was their only lead. If anyone from their group had seen these signs, he was certain that it was possible they had followed them.

The three were only a couple miles away from their destination when night fell over the land forcing them to seek out a campsite. This was clearly a used trail, Rick had noted, when they happened upon a previously used site just off the trail, campfire ring already set up and an old rusty truck parked along one side. They had settled in for a meager meal of stale crackers, a can of mixed vegetables and water, small talk filling the air. They finished their meal eagerly, starved stomachs thankful for whatever they could get. It wasn't long until Carl retired himself to sleep in the broken down vehicle

Rick wished he could say that he was agile enough to have noticed the faint sound of approaching feet. But it wasn't until he felt the cold steel of a gun push up against his temple that he registered a threat. He held his breath as they were surrounded, eager grins playing on the faces of the sketchy looking men. He recognized only one of them, a flash flowing through his mind of a face he had seen of the group that ran them out of the house they had been previously occupying. It appeared by their triumphant banter that they had been searching for them. Playing no games, who appeared to be their leader, the man holding a gun to his head began a countdown. Rick feverishly searched the terrified eyes of Michonne for a plan as she was helpless to do anything. His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to break out, as he saw one of them men pull Carl from the car, pinning him violently to the ground.

The man behind him stopped his count when a sudden shout of, "Joe!" was let out from an unknown source, hidden by the deep shadows of night. Both groups searched the darkness until a new figure appeared through the haze.

It wasn't until the newcomer stepped around the side of the car and into the dancing light of their campfire that Rick's breath caught in his throat. The ex-officer's eyes began to water when his brain processed the horror stricken sight of Daryl approaching the scene. They locked eyes for a moment, both asking tales of 'why' and 'how'. Daryl was speaking now, his sultry southern drawl blanketing him in a cold chill. The older man behind him retorted smugly, his words laced with awe and making Rick loath the way Daryl's name fell off the mans tounge. Though his hunter's pleading voice was something he feared he'd never hear again, Rick couldn't shake the violent shivers that came along with a new revolution. His partner had called the man Joe. His love knew these unsavory men, spoke to them by name as if they were well acquainted. The idea that his Daryl was in affiliation with these cold killers was almost as unbelievable as the idea that Daryl was really alive at all. He faintly filtered through the the conversation being had before him, almost protesting when he realized that his lover was trying to give up his life in return for theirs. Rick shook his head lightly, pushing the ungratified splinters of disapproval and almost betrayal from his mind when the man named Joe spoke again.

"Now you say, Daryl, that these are good people. Now I think our friend Lue would disagree. I'll have to speak for him of course, seeing that your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

He paused to let the statement sink in before continuing, "Now that right there, is a lie."

As soon as the final word left the mans mouth, the group took action. The two men standing guard in front of him closed in around the hunter, one taking the butt of his rifle to Daryl's stomach. Rick flinched when he curled over before receiving another blow to the head. The redneck did little to defend himself, he noticed, as he took hit after hit, skin slowly being stained red.

Suddenly the men paused their assault to hauled Daryl to his feet, slamming his beaten and bloody form against the hood of the car. One hand came up to grasp what must have been painfully in his hair, forcing him to look back at the scene. The sheriff gritted his teeth when seductive hands began to roam over his partners bruised body, a cringe of humiliation overcoming his features. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, praying that this was some new type of nightmare, as he tried to forget the sight of his love being manhandled before him and the sounds of his young son struggling with a foreign form on top of him. When he opened his eyes again it was met by the sorrowful gaze of Daryl, desperately trying to seek him out for comfort.

Rick began racking his brain for any form of escape plan, as he witnessed the two unsavory men press themselves up against Daryl, whispering what could only be smug threats in his ear.

His rage was building when his fearful mind came to the conclusion of what the group planned on doing to Daryl and Michonne. Even Carl. His eyes were fixed in wavering from the scene now, his vision beginning to blur. He was only pulled back from it when the gun at his head prodded him for his attention as Joe spoke, "Ya' look nervous there, pal. What's got ya' so worried?"

Rick tried desperately to mask his flowing emotions, trying not to let on that he knew Daryl that well, in the hope that at least someone would be spared. The older man surveyed the situation, looking in between his anxious men, and locking onto the stare that he and Rick had yet to pull themselves out of. A moment later and realization came over the older man's features. Clearly he hadn't done a well enough job when suddenly the man let out a barking laugh , "Oh no, don't tell me-?"

His gut dropped for a moment when he heard the sound of the man cocking his gun and Daryl suddenly trying to fight his way free from the hands holding him. "Oh, so its true? The two of ya' a thing? Is that it Daryl?" The ex-officer couldn't believe that the man had deduced that so quickly, recognizing the darkest glare that the Dixon gave in response.

Joe took a hold of the scruff of Rick's jacket, adjusting the angle at which he held his weapon, "Well, I'll be damned!" He let out another amused chuckle.

"Well than, this jus' gotta little more interestin', didn't it?"

Rick couldn't pull his gaze from Daryl, seeking some spark of familiarity to keep him grounded as Joe leaned in close enough for him to loudly whisper, "Here's how we'll do it than. My boys here, are gonna beat and fuck ye'r boyfriend ta' death. Then ye'r lady-friend. Then ye'r boy." Joe paused between each sentence, allowing the biting edge to sink into Rick's veins, "Then-then I'll kill ya' myself." Rick shook his head again, his vision blurring again in hatred. The man watched him carefully, gaging the glare that unknowingly overtook him. There was silence for a moment as Joe pulled away from him, feverish curiosity filling him as the moment strung on.

Suddenly one of the men slammed Daryl's head down on the hood of the car, blood splattering on the metal from his open wounds, causing Rick to flinch. He could no longer keep his panic under control, his unsteady breathing causing him to shake violently. The two behind Daryl worked together in pinning him down as one of them positioned himself behind the hunter. The man rubbed enticing circles along his hips and thighs for a moment before snaking his hands around to Daryl's belt buckle. He undid the flap with anxious hands and swiftly undid his pants in anticipation.

Allthough he had already knew what they planned to do, Rick had to rip his eyes away from the sight of his love being taken advantage of, Joe's threat bouncing around in his swirling mind. The sheriff knew that he would soon be forced to witness the same thing being done to Michonne and his son and the thought blinded him. Rick became desperate as he heard the vile comments being made to Daryl. He stole a glance up and realized that his particular captor was watching the scene with sick satisfaction. Feeling even more disgusted, he took the older mans distracted state as a window of opportunity. The rest happened so fast. He threw his weight back at the man but was rendered deaf when the ring of a shot being fired penetrated his ear drums. The shock of the sudden shot struck everyone. The man looming over Michonne flinched back, unsure of where the shot had come from. The sword-wielder swiftly overpowered the confused man, taking his weapon. The large one, who was still looming over Carl, appeared to panic, scooping the boy up and taking him hostage. The two men hovering over Daryl had been distracted as it was, the loud bang setting them into a confused and stunned state, loosening their hold on the hunter. Daryl took the opportunity to wrench one of his arms free from their grasp, swinging his elbow out to sharply jab the one behind him in the throat. Now freed, he spun in place, landing a bone-cracking punch to the other ones face. Rick was slow to wrench himself from his stunned state, knowing that if he didn't act now, his defence assault would have been for nothing.

He lunged at Joe, his vision going white as he wrestled the man for dominance, keeping his gun held out at bay. The man had wrapped his arms around Rick in an attempt to hold his limbs in place. He struggled get himself free but to no avail. His mind was gone, running over everything the men had said and done. What they promised to do. For a moment, flashes of their life at the prison went through Rick's mind. The smiling faces of Carl, Michonne, and Daryl painfully burned into his minds-eye. Before he knew what he was doing, adrenaline willing him to protect his family, Rick planted his teeth firmly in the older man's throat, ripping a chunk from the hot flesh. Disgusted but not sorry, he spat the ball of skin and gut to the ground, thick blood coating his tongue. He was utterly blinded now, although the man holding his son was easily twice his size, Rick charged him. He felt like a feral beast as a wrenched the man away from Carl. Fat rolls fell back in a panic as Rick recovered his fallen blade and through himself full force onto him, all pain from previous injury forgotten. All of his rage flowed out of him in a satisfying derange as he plunged the knife repeatedly into the final member's skull, taking out any anger that had built in him since day one. It wasn't until all of his energy had depleted, fingers numb from exhaustion, that he stopped swinging. He laid over the man, body still shaking from the rush, as he tried to tame his heavy, uneven breathing. In that moment, he could not bring himself to look up. He knew that what he had done was unnecessarily brutal and judging by the way no one approached him he must have been a frightful sight. Rick left his eyes downcast, searching what little was left of his soul for an explanation to give the three pairs of eyes he felt burning holes into his back. When he found none, he stood, knees shaking. On the edge of his peripheral vision he saw what was left of his family standing together. Michonne's bloodied hands were wrapped around Carl in comfort, for his or her own sake, he didn't know. Carl's bloody face was barely looking up from the ground, eyes hidden in the haunting darkness. Daryl stood close beside them, his features unreadable behind the long hair he used to hide his emotion, pants still hanging open and sagging slightly, a reminder as to what had almost happened. 'Something worse. I did it to stop something worse' he told himself over and over again as his hollowed out body moved past them to their scattered belongings. Rick couldn't bare to look at the scene any longer. He began packing their things and placing what little they had in the car. The others slowly followed, no words to offer. He didn't blame them. He himself didn't know what to say after something like that. The vehicle didn't work, however no one in their group appeared to want to sleep amongst the corpses that now littered their makeshift campsite. This was more of an excuse, silently given by each one of them. Sleep seemed to be the last thing on each of their minds as they sat silently in the cab of the truck.

Dawn couldn't have come soon enough. Rick was the first to exit the vehicle, claiming to keep watch with the growing light. This however was an excuse as well. He needed some time to think alone, the night spent sitting in close proximities to the people he wanted to protect, setting him back into a thick layer of smog. He sat up against the side of the car, letting his brain untangle the narling mess as his eyes stared aimlessly into the mass of trees and woodland.

His senses on high alert since last night, Rick listened to the sound of the car door being opened and closed on the other side, waiting to see who had grown comfortable enough to approach him first. For the first time since last night his eyes studied the worn out form of Daryl. His steps were light and careful as he tentatively approached him, gaze intent on the items he held in his hands. It wasn't until his partner was in front of him, arm extended with a damp rag that Rick could see the full extent at which the group had dealt on him. One of his partners eyes was swollen, encircled in a deep purple bruise. He had a gash in his lip and over his temple, the rest of him scattered in small scratches and marks. Rick had a flare of the anger he had felt last night arise at the sight of what those men had done to Daryl, but swallowed it down, knowing that more anger was not what they needed right now. Instead he tried to smile, knowing that it probably looked more like a grimace as he tried to hide his sorrow.

"We should save it." He tried, his voice rough. Daryl studied him closely, "Ya' can't see yourself. We can."

Rick accepted the rag reluctantly, trying to hide the sharp pain he suddenly felt in his heart. After all that, after what had almost happened to the hunter, he was still the one to try and comfort Rick first. Yet when the man sat down next to him he felt some of the pain lift off of his shoulders, replaced only by tired joy that Daryl was truly back at his side.

The air was silent for a moment as Rick dabbed the damp rag along his face.

"I didn't know who they were." Daryl offered, something of a pleading tone carrying his words. It was then that the hunter looked up at him, "I me'n, I knew th'y were bad guys. Jus' not tha' kinda' bad."

Defeated, his partner dropped his gaze again when he didn't respond. The leader got the impression that Daryl was somehow guilty about what had happened, fearing that Rick blamed him. It was his turn to comfort his partner before the redneck settled on his wrong realization of resentment. He took Daryl's chin between his dirt stained fingers, forcing their eyes to meet.

There was a moment of silence as the two searched each others eyes before Rick bent forward to bring their lips together. It was a soft and conveying kiss, tainted only by the taste of a dead man's blood.

It ended too quickly when Rick pulled back and rested their foreheads together, breathing in the air of their reobtained peace. The steel exterior he had built up since last night melted away, the painful joy he felt now showing through his body language as he stroked Daryl's cheek lovingly.

Rick held his gaze, "Hey, it's not on you, Daryl."

There was a message of thanks written in his love's misty sky blue eyes, his body finally deflating of some of his previous tension. He wanted to run his hands over his partner and wash away the memory of any unwanted touches that he was forced to endure. He wanted to spend the day wrapped in one another's embrace, reminding them that this was real, that Daryl was really here.

"You're here now and that's all that matters."

Daryl opened his mouth to say something else but closed it again. There silence for a moment as they lavished one another's presence before Rick heard words that had never before left Daryl's mouth, "I-I love you."

He couldn't hold back the odd mix of passion and fear swelling in his chest. They locked lips again, swirling on a high that only came from the comfort of one another.

_Alrighty, another chapter down! Again, if you didn't notice, this was a reprise of 'walk the line'. I had a lot of fun taking a previous story and flipping the POV. Thanks for any views and reviews!:-) _


	9. Ring of Fire

**Description**: Farm setting. Daryl agrees to take Rick out for some hunting and tracking lessons but when a horde of walkers pass through at dawn, the pair are forced to take shelter for the night. Rick's POV. 1st person.

_Side note: in case anyone hasn't noticed yet, just about every story I post Daryl and Rick are already in a loving relationship, just keep that in mind. Mostly because I'd rather skip to the good stuff in these short one-shots. _

**Warning: sexual content, smut.**

I own nothing

**Ring of Fire**

_The taste of love is sweet_

_When hearts like ours meet._

_I fell for you like a child,_

_Oh, but the fire went wild._

It was officially too dark out for my comfort.

We tracked through the damp foliage, close together and as silent as could be, as we made our way to the dimming silhouette of what Daryl guessed was a cabin. My breath scratched my throat from all the tireless running we had done, suddenly clumsy footsteps being the only sound that greeting me.

After the search for Sophia had been ended, her lifeless body the only image I could see of her in my minds-eye, things had calmed back down for the time being. It was during our search that I realized just how pathetic I was in regards to forest tracking. A useful trait to have in times like these. It was then that I decided to ask a favor of the best hunter and tracker that I knew. Daryl. My request was simply, to teach me the basics, earning brownie-points for being the person who was banging the brash man.

Alright, maybe that's not the best way to put it. Even if it was true that I was sleeping with him, I assume he agreed for other reasons. Or at least I hoped.

We ventured out a little after noon, planning on returning around sunset. It was on our way back to the Greene farm when Daryl had shot down a single Walker. It hadn't been a big deal. Happens all the time. It wasn't that startling when a second approached us and I took it out easily with my knife either. It was when Daryl suddenly froze and stared off into the growing darkness that I knew something was wrong. Following his gaze, my body stiffened when I caught sight of what he had so adamantly been staring at. It looked like dozens of Walkers were headed our direction. I was pulled from my haze when Daryl grasped at my shoulder and lowered his crossbow, urging me to follow him. He led us in a different direction than the camp however, "Where are we goin'? Camps that way." I said, pointing to our original path. We had broken out in a run, "Wha'? N' lead all of em' back ta' camp?"

He had a point.

Night was falling quickly as we ran, my legs burning from the adrenalin. We ran until we no lower heard the horde behind us, slowing into a brisk power walk. "There!" Daryl had spoken in a loud whisper but in the deafening silence, it sounded like a shout. I followed his sight again to what looked like a secluded house not too far in the distance. I guessed it was our best bet, thinking that some good could come out of it if there were any useful supplies there.

We had slowed to a crawl while approaching what I could now clearly see as a wood cabin. Silently deciding to stick together, Daryl and I circled the house, checking for any signs of life.

When none were found we tried our luck at the front door, which was expectedly locked via padlock. Daryl pulled out his hunting knife and easily undid the screws securing the metal lock hooks, while I hoisted a flash light for him to see. Once inside, we fanned out, but there wasn't much to see. It was a single room cabin with one large bed, a dining area and a makeshift living room, complete with wood burning stove. Satisfied with its void appearance, Daryl set down his crossbow on the fold out table and pushed the two person sofa in front of the door.

"How do we know no ones comin' back here?"

It was a legitimate question I thought, but apparently Daryl didn't think so as he scoffed.

"Ah, come on, Gimes. Ya' really tha' helpless? Wood in tha' stove is ol' as hell, there's a lay'r a' dust over everythin', n' there ain't a damn thin' here ta' eat. Figure th's was a huntin' cabin, one's w'th padlocks 'stead a deadbolt usu'lly are, no one livin' here." As if to illustrate his point, Daryl plopped down on the bed, a comical cloud of dust arising, sending him into a coughing fit.

I couldn't help but smile as he tried to catch his breath, glancing through the window curtains to survey our surroundings, "home, sweet home."

We filled the air with small talk, until a few stragglers from the hoard passed by. When things had calmed down however, we indulged in the rations we had thankfully brought along for the day. It wasn't much, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

Although we hadn't agreed to it, I stood watch. Daryl sifted through the content of the cabin, only finding a half full box of .22 rounds, a rusted pocket knife, and half a dozen old cast iron pans. It hadn't been long before the tireless pacing of Daryl stretched my nerves, putting my senses on edge, "seriously Daryl, can't you sit still?"

I hadn't turned around but I did hear his insulted huff as his consistent foot steps came to a hault. There was a moment of silence before I heard him move again, assuming that he had chosen a seat.

I had been proven wrong however when suddenly his form pushed up against me from behind, wrapping his biceps around my abdomen. I felt my face heat slightly, thankful for the darkness within the cabin, "Daryl, I'm tryin' to keep watch."

His lips were suddenly on the nape of my neck and I realized too late that I allowed a groan to escape my lips.

Daryl chuckled, "Well, stop tryin'. Nothin' ou' there. Th' hoard w'ndered off. S' so quiet ou' here, i'd hear anythin' comin' 'fore we'd hav'ta even worry."

When I couldn't think of a reasonable response, Daryl took it as consent. His hands worked feverishly to untuck my shirt and run his hands up over my chest before he unbuckled my belt and pulled at my hips. I will admit, at this point, it was very difficult to say no. I turned in place and pulled him towards me by the front of his shirt, forcing our lips together in demand. The free metal of my belt clanked loudly when he suddenly grinded our hips together. I had only managed to muffle my moan by running a hand into his hair and deepening the kiss as Daryl's tongue battling with mine. Unable to help myself, I pulled back and glanced over my shoulder, surveying the yard one last time before speaking, "Startin' to wonder if ya' planned this all out, jus' to get me all alone, Daryl."

He snickered and pulled back from me, removing his shirt, "Jus' makin' th' besta' the cards we been dealt. Now get naked, Grimes."

I couldn't help myself from eating up the sight of the hunters bare chest, "bossy much?"

Although I tried to make it seem like I wasn't excited about the prospect of completely isolated, wild sex with the younger Dixon brother, I could tell that he knew I was anticipating this as much as he was. Besides, even if I wasn't physically attracted to Daryl Dixon like a horny teenager with a crush, no one could resist those piercing bedroom-eyes that cut through even the haze of night.

Deciding to trust his keen senses, I followed him toward the moth-eaten comforter of the bed, removing my own shirt and gun belt as I went. Daryl paused at the bed, deciding to pull the dusty comforter off all together before kicking off his boots and removing his pants and boxers in one swift motion. Eager as I was, I found myself fumbling with removing the remainder of my clothes, eyes locked on the delicious muscles flexing along the redneck's scared back. As if sensing my gaze on him, Daryl looked over his shoulder at me and raised an eyebrow, "need help?"

I let out an almost humorless laugh, not wanting to inconvenience him any further, "Nah." I forced my eyes away to focus on the task at hand, adrenaline beginning to flow, as I realized how painful my restricting pants were on my growing erection. When I looked back up, Daryl was already laying on his back on the white sheets of the bed. He lay there, eyes roaming over my now naked body in hunger, one hand wrapped around the back of his head, while the other casually stroked his throbbing shaft. My knees almost buckled at the sight.

I crept my way up his form, moving his hand aside and taking his member in my own, continuing the pace he had already begun. I licked and sucked small kissed into his forming abs for a moment before snickering, "Ya' always get what ya want?"

He laughed faintly at this, trying not to show how much he was enjoying my attention, " 'n this regard. Yah."

I continued my assault, hungry to taste the salty texture of his skin, when he laced his fingers into my hair. I smiled against him, working my way up his chest to take one of his nipples into my mouth. He laughed through a moan before continuing, " Can' help it ya' want me so bad."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

But I'd be damned if I let him talk me through this one, no, tonight was my night to take charge and force him to beg for more. Continuing my trail, I managed to get to the weak spot at his throat, where he let out the most delicious moan. "Really? 'Cuz I think it's you who can't get enough of me."

One thing I had noticed over the course of my sexual encounters with Daryl was that he was a sucker for dirty talk. Sure, sometimes he liked it sweet and slow but the majority of the time he liked it hard and fast, vulgar banter thrown at him to entice him, not to insult. What can I say, kid's a dirty masochist in bed.

Tonight would definitely be one of those nights at the rate this was going. I brought my lips up to bite at his ear lobe, "I think y'er a starved bitch an' I'm the only one who can give ya' what ya' really want."

Daryl groaned, his back suddenly arching with my words. When he didn't respond I decided to push him further, the desperate responses his body gave me making me even more hard, "ain't that right?"

He let out an unintelligible noise and that was all the encouragement I needed. Abandoning the assault on his ear, I repositioned myself so that I could continue jerking him off and extend my other hand to his mouth, where I commanded, "Suck."

He grabbed a hold of my hand and took three of my fingers into his mouth, wetting them for what I knew he was eager to receive. I never used to be like this but there was something about Daryl that turned me into a violent lover at times. And man did it feel good. To me, there was nothing hotter than manhandling the proud redneck into a quivering, begging mess. Sure, I often felt bad about it after, knowing that there was some type of psychological issue with him that made him ask me for the abuse. It was a never ending cycle, what would start as a beautiful thing would turn into a dirty and vile form of sex, we would both lavish in the afterglow, than the fog would lift, I would feel ashamed, Daryl would seem embarrassed, I would silently promise to make it more sweet next time and than we'd start all over. I knew that even now, as I ate him up with my eyes, that it was a habit that we both needed to brake but I was way too far gone to worry about that now.

I relinquished my hold on his member and pulled my fingers from the heat of his mouth, "On your knees." He followed my order without question and I almost scared myself with the dark chuckle that left my throat as I positioned myself behind him, "Such a good skank."

Without warning I inserted my first finger in his entrance all the way up to my knuckle, setting a fast pace as I opened him up. I didn't wait long to insert the second, his ass already loosening for me. The motion was quick and Daryl let out little huffs here and there. Not completely out of my mind, I spent more time with just the two, not really wanting to hurt him. Rubbing small circles into his open thighs, I inserted the third finger and received a small hiss from him. I slowed down only slightly but when the hunter let out a pleading groan I continued with my fast pace, "Ya' like it hard, don't ya', Daryl?"

It was a rhetorical question but he nodded eagerly anyway.

I withdrew my fingers, satisfied with my work and leaned back to take in the sight. Man, I could never get enough of this.

I spit in my hand and used it to slick my own neglected cock before placing the tip at his entrance. I waited only a moment to let some of my pre-cum drip onto his perfect ass before steadily inserting myself. I couldn't stop even if I wanted to, fully sheathing myself in Daryl's tight hole. I allowed us both a moment to adjust before withdrawing nearly all the way and slamming back in. He let out a prolonged moan, a mixture of blissful pain and pleasure. I repeated the action, building speed until I was was relentlessly thrusting as hard and fast as I could. The room was now filled with audible curses and growing moans, pushing me on.

"Gah! Fuck- Rick! Don't s-stop!"

I continued my barrade, mouth agape, as I viciously brought my hand down on his ass. "Fuckin' like that? Huh?"

"Yah, yah, yah!"

"Such a greedy whore, ain't ya'?"

I quickly spread his legs further as I adjusted my angle, aiming for his sweet spot. Daryl let out a near shout as I ran a hand up his back to take a painful hold of his hair.

"S-shi- mfh. Fuckin'. Christ. Gaa- h-harder!"

I didn't stop my attack on his prostate, wanting to hear my partner beg me even more but knowing that I couldn't last much longer. I let my free hand, which had been grasping bruises into his hip, slide up his cheek where I brought it down in another piercing smack.

It was just after this that Daryl let out a string of unarticulated curses and gasps, which ended with, "-fuckin' yes, Rick!" And with it he suddenly sped up impossibly faster only to stiffen as his orgasm exploded, taking him under. The sight pushed me into my final stage, speeding up, now desperate to meet my climax with the hunter. It was only a dozen thrusts later that my vision went blurry, I relinquished my death grip on Daryl's hair and brought both hands to his hips to keep him steady as I rode out my own orgasm inside his now impossibly tight hole. We both collapsed with the final exertion, desperately trying to bring our breathing back under control. When I pulled out of him, limp and thoroughly satisfied, a stream of searing cum followed. I rested on top of him for a moment, kissing my message of admiration into his neck, before falling off to the side where I rested on my back. Daryl followed, flipping himself over as I couldn't help but snake an arm around his neck to draw him closer. We laid like that for several moments before my lover finally gave a 'review' as to what had just happened, "shit".

To my displeasure, he pulled away from me, but only for a moment. He had leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve something before returning to our comfortable embrace, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in hand. He pulled one from the carton and lit it, throwing the pack aside half hazardly before intertwining his fingers in mine. He took a long drag and let it out, my eyes growing wide at the action. It didn't really bother me but the look on my face must have been comical because Daryl laughed, "Wha'?"

I motioned vaguely to the smoke now billowing in the air.

"Wha'? Never had a post-sex smoke before?"

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me at this, "I don't smoke. It's just- it seems so cliche."

Instead of answering me, he stared at me, a smile playing on his lips as if he were testing my limits, as he flicked the collecting ash onto the floor.

_I've been practicing with my sex scenes lately and noticed that I had a distinct lack of violent but satisfying smut. So. Here ya' go. Haha I'm rather self-conscious about this one, so please let me know what you think! Thanks again for reading!_


	10. Jackson

_We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout,_

_We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out._

_I'm goin' to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around,_

_Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson,_

_Look out Jackson town._

8:07pm and the sun was beginning its late decent, bring an end to the hot Georgia day. The rolling plains spread out for miles, dusted lightly with clusters of forest life here and there. Rick drove silently, accompanied by the light sound of public radio, the tune foreign to him but calming all the same. He took in a deep breath as he watched the road materialize before him, trying to sooth out his frazzled nerves. It had been an early day at the station, a rare treat, as his quiet town found no need for disturbances. He could have gone straight home but the prospect of what would greet him there was not at all enticing. So, the sheriff's deputy decided to take a detour, winding through the peaceful backwater roads before darkness engulfed the land. It was no secret to his friends and coworkers that he was having issues at home. His wife Lori, as beautiful as she was strong, demanding his thoughts on every little detail of their conjoined life. It wasn't as if Rick were surprised, that's what married life is after all. Yet, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed at times, his job requiring that he stay calculated and collected and returning home to be expected to flip a switch and be nothing but an emotional and intuitive husband. It was just too difficult sometimes, to go from one extreme to another and it appeared in his work ethic that he was better at the former rather than the later.

Rick drove, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel while his opposite elbow rested on the window sill, its connecting hand running thoughtlessly through his curling hair. While the matter did plague his mind, there was no swirl of guilt nor worry, only an iry, low fog that settled over him like the calm before the storm.

He had been driving for about 30 minutes, switching on his headlights as dusk approached and deciding to run on the next adjacent road he found to loop around and finally head home.

What happened next took him completely by surprise. A flash of a quick form along the driver-side's front end and Rick was slamming his foot down on the brake pedal as hard as he could. The sound of squealing tires rose above the grinding noise coming from his engine and the twist of metal that encased it as he painfully and instinctively cranked the wheel. His car, fuck his family car, spun sideways in a dizzying turn before coming to a halt, smoke emitting from beneath the hood and clouding his vision. Rick sat stock-still for a moment as the panic that had erupted through his veins settled. Taking off his seatbelt, the officer forced open his door, which provided some resistance, and exited the vehicle on weak legs. He waved a hand in front of his face to clear the fuming smoke from his vision before taking a step back.

His Chevy Cavalier (Lori's choice of a family vehicle, not his) was dented in at the driver's side, the hood a mangled mess of oils and ruined car parts. The front tire was bent inward, cancelling any plans he had to drive home. Stepping around the littered car wreckage, Rick followed what looked like drops of blood to the other side of his vehicle. He grimaced when he saw what had caused the accident, a deformed pile of guts and fur, the remainder of what he guessed had been a beautiful doe. Inspecting it closely, Rick tilted his head slightly when he noticed something out of the ordinary. What appeared to be the shredded remains of an arrow, smeared with crimson, wedged underneath the dead flesh of the animal.

Rick had just crouched down to get a better look when a voice made him jump, "sonofa' bitch!"

He whipped his head up and searched for the source, only to be greeted by the sight of an angry looking man approaching him on quick and determined steps, "Tha's my deer!"

The officer surveyed the man, feeling an aura of aggression from him and noticed the crossbow slung over his broad shoulder.

The man's sleeveless shirt revealed sweat slicked skin, his torn and battered jeans looking well worn and used. As he came closer, Rick couldn't help but notice the dirty blond locks clinging to his forehead, matted with dirt and grime. This man had clearly worked hard to find this deer, his agitation not at all surprising but still unsettling.

Rick still didn't know why he did it. Accepted a ride from the man who was clearly not fond of him in any matter. He couldn't exactly explain how it led to this. This awkward silence settling over the confined space of the other man's pickup cab. Rick watched the calm scenery develop into city limits. Wandering eyes occasionally seeking out the form beside him. The deputy truly could not fathom why he had instinctively jumped at the other man's -Daryl he had learned- offer.

Perhaps it had been the knowledge of the outcome if he hadn't accepted, a 5 mile walk back to town. Or maybe, he had been eager to examine the man a little more thoroughly- something he would fiercely deny. Because why should he? I couldn't be Daryl's striking physique. Or his dazzling eyes. And definitely not the fact that Rick found his straight forward and sharp attitude to be refreshing.

No, he would never admit to being charmed by any of that.

After the stranger had struggled through the clearing to the road and over to Rick's wrecked car and even more demolished hunt, Daryl had been in a fume. Simmering down with the seriousness of the matter, however, the hunter had introduced himself and apologized for the shittiness of the situation. His words, not Rick's.

Together they pushed the car off the road, abandoning the disemboweled carcase. He wasn't worried about leaving his car, explaining to Daryl that he would call his insurance company in the morning and get the thing towed in the morning. The man had then offered him a ride back to town.

It was now that he was confined with him in close proximities that Rick truly felt uncomfortable. Before it had been a leeriness, an instinctual warning to tread softly around the angry stranger. He had seemed dangerous then, a potential threat that Rick took caution in handling. Now, every small tick about the man caught his eye in an enticing way. He watched Daryl tap his long, dirty fingers on the steering wheel in an unfamiliar tone. Rick noticed the long beads of sweat trail down his impressive biceps, leaving soil encased rivulets on his pale skin. He admired the sharp angle of Daryl's jawline, thinking how his body appeared to be carved of marble.

He had to shake those thoughts from his head, hating how easily they had infiltrated his mind. He was a married man and no amount of fighting with Lori could bring him to cheat on his wife, much less with another man. Sure, the idea of telling his savior of sorts to find an abandoned field to pull into rather than taking him home was tempting. They could easily park the truck, exit the vehicle and climb into the bed and fuck like-_ 'stop. Stop right there Grimes!'_ Rick mentally smacked himself.

He felt his face heat up with where that trail of thoughts almost led. He sounded like an idiot, even to himself. Especially to himself.

Rick focused on keeping his gaze out the window, no need for any further distraction as they made their way through his small town. Daryl seemed to be a local, knowing generally where his house was when he told the man his address. It didn't take long however for the pair to pull into the driveway and it was with a quick muttered thanks that Rick rushed to exit the vehicle, a settling panic in his stomach. He feared what he may say or do if he sat next to the enticing man any longer. Yet, as the stranger drove away, he wished that in another life, he had had a chance to know him further.


End file.
